How Did I Get Here?
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: When Eric is given an unwanted position as Athletic Director at Dillon High, he turns to his father for advice. While reconnecting with his dad, he begins to doubt his own abilities as a father. Meanwhile, Tami continues to struggle with some lingering postpartum depression, and Julie regrets her decision to break up with Matt.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** "How Did I Get Here" is a part of a series of stories, but you can read it as a stand-alone. Each of these stories is meant to be readable in isolation, but, if you want to read them in the chronological order of events, they go like this:

1-Seeing Eric (Eric/Tami high school backstory)  
2-It Was a Different Time (Eric/Tami college and early marriage backstory)  
3-Tami Taylor Is Always Right (between Season 1 and Season 2)  
4-Back in the Saddle (Season 2)  
**5-How Did I Get Here (Season 2)**  
6-The Best Man Wins (Season 2)

**Please leave comments!** It's encouraging to know people are reading.

**Chapter One**

"Eric," Shelley cooed, "I can't believe I spent all this time being jealous of you. This is what I make teaching preschool."

His sister-in-law had picked up his paycheck from off the counter. What did she thinks she was doing, touching his stuff? He was glad she'd come to watch Gracie so Tami could get back to work like she wanted, but Shelley had shown up late – at the very last minute – and then she'd immediately started touching his things.

"We're going to get that taken care of," Tami said. "It was just a mistake."

Tami was not going to be happy if he didn't resolve this paycheck error soon. And he wasn't going to be happy if he didn't get out of this house before Shelley brought up the environmental necessity of cloth diapers again. "Good to see you," he told his sister-in-law and made his escape, although not before Tami told him forty-seven times "you need to get that taken care of." Like he didn't know.

He looked at the paystub again on the way out the door. Now that he ran the numbers in his head, he saw that his total salary was about forty percent less than it had been last time he coached the Panthers. It must be an accounting error.

He climbed into his SUV and started driving.

_Wait a minute._

Shelley made 60% of what he did teaching preschool? What the hell? What was that? A six-hour-a-day job? Forty weeks a year, maybe? How in the hell did she make that much money teaching _pre_school?

Then again, lately, it had felt as if he was dealing with a bunch of preschoolers on the Panthers, and it hadn't been worth the pay.

**[*]**

Eric stopped by Buddy's dealership. It should only take a moment to straighten out this pay check error. Of course, he first had to watch some kid wrestle a pig under a "Hog Wild" sign. San Diego, Buddy said his name was. Or something like that.

Eric tried to imagine his own father holding a sales event like this, back when he'd managed the Dillon GM dealership, when Buddy was just a fledgling salesman. Of course, his father had given Buddy a long rope back then. It was part of what helped bring the dealership back from the brink. That and making Eric scrub all the cars to sparkling clean at a sub-par wage. Well, not really. His dad had paid all of his employees well. He never had much turnover, that man. Eric supposed it saved in training costs.

When San Diego (or whatever his name was) finally caught the pig, Buddy said, "I think we've found our new tight end."

Damn Buddy. Always trying to do his job for him. He'd done that when Eric was a teenager, too. Told him how to wax the cars: "You missed a spot, Eric. Right there. Left side of the hood."

Eric, frowning deeply, showed him his paystub.

"Let's go in the office," Buddy said.

It was the main office, of course. Nothing like the tiny salesroom Buddy used to inhabit at the old GM dealership, where Eric had kissed Tami for the first time.

"I win a state championship and my salary gets reduced 40%?" Eric asked him.

"No. It's 37. And I have every intention of doing something about that."

"I've got a baby. I've got a mortgage. Tami wants to put a new room on the house!"

"That's not very good timing," Buddy told him.

Eric knew it wasn't good timing. Tami was always wanting to expand beyond their means, always calling him a tightwad. _We've already paid down 70 percent of the mortgage_, she'd told him. _And you can't see fit to take out a teeny tiny little low-interest home equity loan to make this house fit the size of our growing family? When I've got a full-time job?_ Yap, yap, yap. Yeah, well, what was she going to do if one of them lost a job? If somebody got really sick? If a plane crashed in the back yard and the tail took out half the house and they had to rebuild? What then?

He knew it was bad timing. It was always bad timing to take out a loan, as far as he was concerned, but he didn't like Buddy telling him how to run his own ship. "You think?" he shouted.

"Listen, Eric, I know you're upset, and I understand, but let me tell you something right now. We had to pay McGregor off, and we had to get you back here, and that depleted the booster club funds." Then Buddy told him the fund wasn't even solvent.

"Fix it," Eric muttered between his teeth before he stood.

"What?"

"You fix it!"

** [*]**

When Eric came in and set a grocery bag down on the counter that evening, Julie was wearing some skimpy, skanky bikini. If there was one thing he hoped to accomplish as a father, it was to raise daughters who knew they were loved and who therefore respected themselves. "Why are you dressed like that?" he demanded.

"It's what everybody in Brazil's wearing," Shelley said nonchalantly.

He didn't know which irritated him more – what Julie was wearing, or what Shelley was saying. "We're not _in_ Brazil."

Then Shelley told Julie to write a thank you note to her grandmother for those boobs. She'd have to write it all the way to Italy, because that's where Tami's mother was.

Tami told Julie to go change, and then Shelley started going off about some summer when Tami was prancing around in a string bikini, her butt hanging out. Eric was pretty sure he was _working_ his ass off to help put Tami through college that summer, so he sure hoped she wasn't strutting around the beach _showing_ hers off. And Shelley had to have been in 9th or 10th grade that summer. She was just making stuff up and talking to talk, wasn't she? "If I gave you a hundred dollars, would you please stop?" Eric asked his sister-in-law.

"Yes," Shelley smirked, "but you don't _have_ a hundred dollars, Eric."

Shelley sure knew how to hit a man where it hurt. "I'll be back in my office." The office he'd had to move to a crowded corner of the cold garage, because Shelley had taken over the guest bedroom where his office _used_ to be.

As he was heading toward the garage, he overhead Shelley inviting Tami to a Dixie Chicks concert on Wednesday and hollered, "I've got a booster meeting on Wednesday, Tam!"

Dixie Chicks. Yeah, that's just what Tami needed to be doing after popping out a baby and getting up two times a night to breastfeed. Rocking out at a concert and inhaling the pot fumes. Then again, maybe if she got a little secondhand buzz, maybe he'd finally get some action around here. They'd only done it the one time since Gracie was born. It had been fantastic, but it had only been the once. He was trying not to pressure her, but…damn. A man had needs.

Did Dixie Chick fans smoke pot? Probably.

**[*]**

In the principal's office, Buddy told Eric there was a solution to the paystub "snafu." They weren't going to raise his coaching salary, but they would make him Athletic Director.

That's what Eric's father used to do, after he'd quit managing the GM. He'd worked as an athletic director at a large high school in Odessa, and then at a university in El Paso. Mr. Taylor had just retired last year from the university, and he'd been making well over six figures. Of course, a university wasn't anything like a high school, but Eric knew his father had made enough at Westfield High to pay the bills. He'd never understood what his father did, exactly, but it had certainly seemed to him it was a _full-time_ job, even at the high school level. "Athletic Director?"

"You would be in charge of our entire Athletic Department."

Eric wasn't looking for two full-time jobs. "That's great, but I think I've got enough responsibilities."

"Eric, it's not that big a deal," the principal told him. "The department pretty much runs itself."

Buddy tried to sell it to him by saying it would look really good on a resume if he was ever applying for another job. He _better_ not be applying for another job anytime soon. He'd just quit his last one. And he was still skeptical this position wasn't going to require a huge portion of his time.

"It's pretty much just a gravy train paycheck," the principal reassured him.

"How much does this job pay?" Eric asked.

The principal told him it was a part-time position and that, combined with his coaching salary, the job would put him within spitting distance of his old salary.

"Spitting distance? What exactly is spitting distance?"

"It's just temporary," Buddy assured him.

As he left, he thought about how much more his TMU job had paid. He'd come home to Dillon with his tail tucked between his legs, and now he was going to have to humble himself even farther. His hands tensed on the steering wheel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Athletic Director, huh?" It was pretty clear this wasn't the solution Tami had been expecting to their little financial crisis. "Why don't you call your father and ask for a few pointers?"

"Is your dad still an athletic director?" Shelley asked.

The conversation was occurring around the kitchen. Tami was making dinner, Shelley was sitting on a stool and holding Gracie, Eric was leaned against the refrigerator, and Julie was nowhere to be found.

"No," Tami said. "He's consulting part-time now. He retired from El Paso University last year. He was making _quite_ a bit of money too. How much are they paying you for that, hon?"

Eric glanced at Shelley. Like hell he was going to tell Tami in front of his sister-in-law that he was only being paid an extra 29 percent for that job, which still meant he was making 8 percent less than he should be – and for more work. "My dad had a _university_ job. Not a part-time high school job."

"So, Eric, your father is handsome, single, _and_ rich?" Shelley asked. "The ladies must be chasing him like crazy."

"He's sixty," Eric said.

Shelley smiled. "All I'm saying is - if _I_ were fifty-five instead of thirty-five, I would absolutely hit that."

"Would you just stop!" Eric jerked open the fridge and grabbed a beer.

"You're thirty-six, Shell," Tami remind her. Then she turned to Eric. "Maybe you should go call your dad now. When was the last time you talked to him anyway?"

"I _just_ talked to him. I called when Gracie was born."

"That was over a month ago, Eric," Shelley pointed out.

"Fine. I'll go. I'll go call my father. I'm going!"

**[*]**

Eric sat with his feet up on the desk in his crowded "home office" as he talked on the phone. It was amazing he could stretch out that far.

"Huh," his father said. "So are you just Boys' Athletic Director then?"

"I…I don't think so. They just said…well….they said the _whole_ department."

"And that's part-time?" Mr. Taylor asked skeptically.

"They said it's just a gravy train paycheck."

"Is it a titular position? Do you have an _Assistant_ Athletic Director who actually does most of the work?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I didn't ask," Eric admitted.

"You didn't ask?"

"Well I didn't know what to ask! They just sprung the whole thing on me. They said the department runs itself."

"I never heard of an athletic department running itself, son."

Eric put his hand on the back of his head and rubbed. "What specifically did you do? You know, when you were still athletic director at the high school level?"

"Well…" His father's voice faded slightly away. "No, I put the Chardonnay in the fridge. Help yourself. I turned on the hot tub about an hour ago. It should be ready. Go on ahead." Then, louder, "I did a variety of things, Eric, I – "

" - Who are you talking to over there? Do you have company? Is this a bad time?"

"No. It's fine. The first thing I did was prepare a master budget."

Eric had prepared a household budget before. Was that anything like a _maser_ budget? He hadn't done that in a few years, though. As their income grew, the need for a line-item budget had gradually slipped away. Tami paid the bills and balanced the checkbook; he kept an eye on the savings and tried to put a little extra toward the mortgage and the college savings fund whenever they could, but neither of them really drew up a detailed budget anymore.

"I did the paperwork for equipment lease requests," his father continued, "paid the invoices, coordinated the gym and field use with a master calendar, scheduled all the team bus departure times , arranged travel accommodations for all of the away games, hired officials for nonconference games, secured, you know, the announcers, chain crews, clock operators, line judges, so on and so forth."

"Jesus that's a lot."

"Oh, Eric, I'm not even half done. And don't take the Lord's name in vain. I interviewed coaches, hired and fired athletic department personnel, I did fundraising - "

"- Fundraising? Isn't that what the boosters are for?"

"_And_ the athletic director. Besides, not every sport is football, Eric. I had to make a lot of phone calls to alumni and businessmen and the like. I monitored all the teams to make sure they were in compliance with all of the regulations, and I had to stay on top of the regulations for every sport, because they kept changing. I…"

His father just kept going.

What the hell had Buddy gotten him into?

In mid-sentence, his father's voice grew distant again. "I like the red one. No, that's _very_ nice." Then back directly on the receiver. "And there some other minor responsibilities involved, such as - "

"- Are you busy?" Eric asked. "I can call another time."

"I'm coming for the christening. I'm invited, I assume?"

"Of course you're invited. It's not…it's not going to be a Catholic christening, though. You know that right?"

"I know you're Episcopalian now."

"I'm Methodist, Dad. Have been for over fourteen years."

"Po-tay-toe, Po-ta-toe. I just want to finally see my new granddaughter in person. How are y'all doing up there? Has Tami got any help?"

"Her sister's here now. Driving me half insane."

"Shelley, right?"

"Yeah."

His father laughed. "Two siblings could not be more different." His voice grew pensive. "I wonder what your sister would have been like, as an adult, if she had lived."

"I don't know," Eric said softly. "I've sometimes wondered that too."

"Well, you take care now."

"Yeah, Dad. You too."

**[*]**

"You're wound like a spring, sugar," Tami told him later that night when he crawled into bed and she turned to lay her head on his chest. "Is it this Athletic Director thing?"

"Yeah. And having to kick Tim off the team. And Shelley is driving me up the wall."

"I know." She sighed. "This better not be permanent, that position. It sounds like a lot of work."

"It's not permanent. Buddy assured me it's temporary."

"Why didn't you discuss salary before you signed?"

He put a hand on his forehead. "Because I was just eager to get home to you, Tami! It was _your_ idea to live apart in the first place, if you recall. I offered to stay."

"I know," she said softly. She raised her head to kiss his lips. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid idea. You do stupid things too, Eric. Like forget to ask how much you're going to get paid."

"Enough already. I understand the error of my ways."

She chuckled. Then she settled her head back down again.

"I think my father had a woman over there when I called. He was talking to someone about wine and hot tubs and the red one."

"You sound a little miffed about that, honey. But you know, your mom's been gone for several years now. This can't be the first woman he's dated."

"I just…I just never thought….They were married so long." He put both his arms around her and squeezed. "I can't imagine moving on, if I ever lost you."

"You would. You're a horn dog, Eric. You wouldn't last two months."

"I just recently lasted two months, thank you very much. And once I lasted seventeen years." He slid down and rolled face to face with her. "Speaking of which…" He wiggled an eyebrow.

"Oh, Eric….I'm so tired."

"It's been days and days, babe."

"It hasn't been that long."

"It's been pretty damn long," he insisted.

"G'night, hon. I love you." She rolled over. "Would you please get that light?"


	3. Chapter 3

Why was some woman banging a ball on the door frame to his office?

"You must be the new athletic director," she announced. "Funny. You look an awful lot like the football coach Eric Taylor!"

Oh hell. What was this? Did this come with the job? This was not in the job description his father gave him.

"How you doing? Do you even know my name? _No I don't._ Do you know what this is?" She held up a deflated soccer ball. Then she just kept talking. He didn't hear it all, but he heard the question, "How many footballs does the football team have?"

Stunned, Eric opened and closed his mouth. Was he supposed to know that? The _number of balls_ every team had? His father hadn't told him anything about memorizing the number of balls.

"36. Okay?" she answered for him. "Not one of them is dead, man. Not one of them is dead. What are you going to do about this?" She tossed the ball against his wall.

No, dealing with crazed women was not in the job description his father had detailed for him. Eric had never had to deal with crazed women as a football coach. Well, if you didn't count the guidance counselor. She could get in a tizzy every now and then, but he knew how to handle that. A little bit of temporary distance, followed by some flowers.

Now the girls' soccer coach was slapping his computer monitor. Why was she touching his stuff? First Shelley, then the soccer coach. Why were women always touching his stuff? Except Tami. She wasn't touching his stuff at all.

"You know," she half shouted, "I would have called you to have this conversation, but I don't even have a frickin' phone."

Eric didn't like this job. He was not the man for this job. How had his father handled crazed, female coaches, he wondered?

She concluded with, "I'm going to be in here every frickin' day until I get what I need."

Coach McGill laughed as she left. "I hope they're paying you a ton of money."

They weren't.

"I'm gonna kill Buddy," Eric said. "I'm gonna kill him."

**[*]**

Tami was juggling a hundred things in preparation for Gracie's christening, from the guest list to the flowers to the food. They needed to rent tables and awnings for the front and back yard for the party that was to follow. She reminded Eric about confirming details with the party rental place because she _knew_ for a fact he was going to forget if she didn't remind him.

"That's the third time you've asked me to do that. I'm going to take care of it."

Then her daughter was harassing her about whether or not the apples were organic. Good Lord. "I seriously doubt it, sweetie. They were on sale."

Tami continued to delegate responsibilities. Shopping for the christening dress. Check. Flowers. Check.

"Mom, you just need to chill out okay?" Julie said. "This baby Gracie christening thing is not that big of a deal."

"Well, sweetie, it is a big deal because you're the godmother first of all."

Tami had lost track of Julie's own godmother over four years ago. Better to have family stand up this time. You never lost track of family.

"Second of all," Tami continued, "we've got family coming from out of town."

Tami's mother was coming, flying in all the way from Italy to meet her new granddaughter for the first time, along with her husband Antonio. Eric's father was coming, as were at least some of his Eric's cousins. Tami didn't know how many, because most of them hadn't bothered to RSVP. In fact, the only one to reply so far was Philip Andrew, who currently lived in a Catholic monastery outside of San Antonio, and who, to Tami's surprise, wrote that he would be thrilled to come. Peter Francis had died in Afghanistan. Still, Tami thought the other four cousins should be able to come.

Why did no one RSVP in a timely manner these days?

**[*]**

Eric was surprised to see Julie come into his office. He thought Julie was too cool to be seen with her father at school, but apparently she wanted to talk. It was nice to see her coming to him. They'd had a rocky time of it when he was in Austin, and it was awhile before she even remotely began to accept his returning authority. She'd been such a daddy's girl in elementary school, too. He missed that.

Julie explained her concern that her mother was going off the rails about the christening.

"Well, it's very important to her," he said, which was strange considering that he was typically more of a stickler for tradition than she was. When they were teenagers, Tami had said she would never go to church again once she was out of her mother's house. Now, half the time, she was the one dragging him.

"I just feel like I'm going to disappoint her." Julie listed off her catalog of responsibilities, on top of which Tami had added a number of christening chores.

"A'right, I'll talk to her," he promised.

"Really?"

"Does that surprise you?" Did she not know she was still his princess?

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

He watched her go. It felt good to be playing daddy again.

He brought up the topic in bed that night. He made Julie's case about feeling overextended from all the chores Tami had assigned her, but Tami brushed it off. "What things? What?"

He continued to make Julie's case, but Tami told him that if their daughter, who went to school and back, was overextended, then that was not the kind of daughter they wanted to be raising. "I hope you were clear with her about that!"

"Uh….a'ight," he said. He didn't want to fight with her tonight. Not over this. She scared him a little bit sometimes. Besides, they'd had the best, laziest sex on Sunday morning. He thought maybe she was ready to get back into a semi-regular sex routine, and he didn't want to upset that gravy train. "A'ight. A'ight. I told her just about everything you said."

"I'm sure you did." Tami reached for the light. "Don't let our daughter manipulate you, Eric." She fluffed her pillow. "Julie's always had you wound around her little finger."

Eric lay awake for a while, in the dark, feeling uneasy. Sometimes, he wished he could assert himself more with Tami – defend his own position more vehemently instead of caving so quickly, the way he'd caved about the move to Austin. He wished Tami and Julie were getting along better. He was worried about his wife. Sometimes she seemed like a simmering cauldron, ready to boil over with either anger or tears at a single poke of the pot. He wondered if she had that post-partum depression thing he'd heard about, and, if so, why she didn't just get some help. She was a counselor after all. He considered suggesting it to her, and then buried the thought. If he suggested that, she'd take it personally, and she'd be upset with him. Then he felt weak for not being able to suggest it.

When his mind wouldn't shut off, he got up and got a beer and sat in his recliner and turned on some game tape.

Shelley emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and a glass and sat on the couch.

"Do you ever watch anything except football?" she asked.

"You planning to drink that whole bottle yourself?"

"I might," she answered. "Red wine is good for your cholesterol."

He peered at the bottle. "That's white."

"Close enough." She poured herself a glass. "Trouble in paradise?" she asked.

"What?"

"Well, you're out here, instead of in bed."

"I just couldn't sleep." When was she going to shut up? Did she expect them to have a conversation?

"Tami and Julie are really butting heads, huh?"

Eric glanced at her. Shelley had noticed too? He supposed it was impossible _not_ to notice. "I guess." He looked back at the TV.

"Don't worry, I talked to Tami already about the way she handled the whole English teacher thing."

_Great_, Eric thought. _Dr. Shelley is in the house._ _Wait._ "What English teacher thing?" Eric had been so busy with the team and being a new father to Gracie, that he hadn't noticed the young English teacher's friendliness with his daughter the way Tami had.

"Uh…you don't know?"

He popped his recliner into an upright position. "Know _what_?"

"Uh…nothing important," Shelley lied. "Tami just went off the rails a little about an unrealistic assignment the teacher gave. But I talked her down. No big deal. They worked it out. The assignment was changed." Shelley leaned back against the couch and crossed her legs. "Can we watch something else?"

**[*]**

Tami sat on her bed, preparing the final guest list for the party that would follow Gracie's christening. At least six people still hadn't bothered to RSVP one way or the other yet, so she resorted to phone calls. She was on the phone with Eric's cousin John Paul at the moment.

"Of course I'm coming, Tami. I just thought you would have assumed. Why would I miss the opportunity to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman such as yourself?"

Tami laughed. "I knew I could count on you to flirt with me, John Paul. And since I just gave birth that's more welcome than you know."

"Oh, I'm sure men flirt with you all the time, Tami. And, yes, Rebekah and I and the kids will certainly be there."

"We're actually renting a moonbounce for all the kids for the party after." If Eric remembered to make that call. She'd better call just in case. "I'm so glad y'all are gonna make it."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good, good good! We'll see you."

As she hung up the phone, Julie walked in. "So this is the godmother dress."

It wasn't very churchy. It looked more like something you'd wear to a spring picnic than to a fall christening. "Oh. Huh."

"So, this is something else I did wrong?"

Tami suggested a cardigan to cover up her shoulders.

"Just tell me what you want me to wear. I'll go put it on."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

That passive aggressive bullshit, that's what. "What you're doing."

Gracie started to cry.

The first child was often jealous of the second. Tami had read that in the parenting books. But usually the children were closer together in age. Usually the first child wasn't this close to leaving the nest. How was Julie ever going to sprout wings if she couldn't even handle sharing a portion of the parental spotlight? She told Julie she knew it had been hard, but "it's time for you to rise up and grow up."

"You know what, Mom? This is not about Gracie. This has nothing to do with Gracie. And I would love to grow up. So why don't you let me?" Julie was near tears.

Tami assured her she was trying to assist her in that growing up process.

"According to you, I can't dress myself, I can't pick my own friends, I can't make my own plans. I can't even go to the mall and pick out a dress with Shelley. Everything I do is wrong according to you!"

Tami assured her that wasn't true.

"Why? So someone can take a picture at this christening and we can all be your perfect little family and your perfect little baby?"

It was clear Julie was hurting, but Tami couldn't feel any sympathy for that at the moment, because her well-behaved, excellent student of a daughter had turned into such an insufferable snot these past several months, and Tami was overwhelemed with a new baby, catching up on her job, and planning the christening, and she didn't have time to put on a soft counselor's voice and pat Julie with kid gloves. "I am not trying to make everybody somebody they're not!" Tami shouted. "I am _trying_ to get you to _grow up_ and to be the beautiful girl that I know that you are!"

"You know," Julie shot back. "Right now I'm acting a lot more grown up than you."

It deteriorated further after that. There was yelling and finger pointing and tears and a mutual shouts of "Do you know how many things I've done for you?"

"A thank you would be nice. That's all I'm asking for," Julie said, retreating through her tears.

Tami picked up Gracie Belle. A thank you _would_ be nice. Thank you for raising me, Mom, for putting your career plans on hold for so many years to be at home with me, for feeling every wound for me as if you were living your own childhood all over again.

And Tami was living her own childhood all over again. Only now, _she_ was the screaming mother who didn't trust her daughter to make her own decisions.

Tami began to cry.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Reviews are appreciated! Please comment.

**[Friday]**

"Your father called," Tami said. "He's not going to be able to make it for the game tonight. His car broke down."

Eric was wolfing down some dinner at the kitchen bar before heading off to the game. "Of course he's not coming," he grumbled. "Why would he make my game? I'm just coaching high school, after all. It's not the NFL."

"Eric, that's not fair," Tami told him. "He was on his way, but his car broke down. It's being repaired right now, but he's still two hours out, so he's going to get a hotel and then leave first thing in the morning. It's better than what my mom's doing, waiting to fly out until tomorrow morning! You'll have a whole day with your father before the christening. "

"What am I supposed to do with him all day?"

"My mom just waits," Tami continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "until the last minute to come see her brand new grandbaby!"

Shelley came into the kitchen with Gracie in her arms. "When is Mom and Dad's plane getting in tomorrow?"

"Not until four in the afternoon," Tami answered, "assuming it's not delayed. "

Shelley handed off Gracie and excused herself to get ready for the game.

"What is there to _get ready_ for?" Eric grumbled. "She's already dressed."

"I still can't get used to her calling Antonio _Dad_ like that," Tami said, bouncing Gracie Belle slightly. Tami was already out of the house when her mother got remarried, and she hardly knew the man.

"He's the closest thing to a real father she's had. Can't blame her for wanting to cling to that."

Tami frowned and looked down at Gracie Belle. A wave of jealousy swept over her. Eric had a father. Shelley had a father. Julie had a father. Gracie had a father. Why was she the only fatherless child in this house?

**[Saturday]**

Julie usually slept until ten or eleven on Saturday morning, but she'd been waking up several times a night lately, and when the clock read 8:55, she decided just to roll out of bed. So many thoughts assaulted her these days. She was upset over the fight she'd had with her mother. She was upset over the way she'd hurt Matt. She'd worked up the courage to apologize to him and had asked over the counter at Alamo Freeze if they could try to be friends, and Matt had nodded, but she didn't feel any better. She didn't know if he meant it. He was probably just being Matt – shoving it all inside, pushing the resentment down into some compact pit in his stomach. It wasn't as if they'd been hanging out like friends.

When Julie came out of her bedroom and sat on the couch, Shelley had the baby. "Thought I'd let your parents sleep in," she said. "Your mom's really stressed out about the christening tomorrow."

"Tell me about it."

"When's your grandfather getting here?"

Julie yawned and covered her mouth. "Knowing grandpa, he got up at 5:30, went for a jog, and then hit the road by seven. So probably soon."

"You know, he doesn't have to stay in a hotel when he gets here," Shelley said. "I could bunk with you and he could have the guest bedroom. I suggested it to Eric."

Julie shrugged. "Grandpa usually stays in a hotel. I think he doesn't like being a guest in someone's house."

"So he's a lot like your dad, then?"

"He's nothing like my dad," Julie insisted. "He's cool."

Just then the doorbell rang. Shelley put a now sleeping Gracie in her bassinet while Julie ran to answer the door.

"Grandpa!" Julie shouted as she hugged the man. He stepped in and put a duffel bag down in the foyer. "Are you staying with us after all?" she asked.

"No, those are just the presents. So good to see you, Julie dear." He glanced around her.

"But it's the baby you _want_ to see, right?"

"No. It's _both_ of you I want to see. And I've got something for you." He unzipped his bag and pulled two books out. "Do you still journal?"

"Sometimes, yeah." Grandpa Taylor had given Julie her very first journal – a pink contraption with its own lock and key, not to mention an invisible ink pen. She'd felt like such big stuff, having that secret repository for her thoughts. "And that other one is a book of poetry. It's John Donne. Have you ever heard of him?"

She nodded.

"I've marked three poems in the table of contents. Read them and tell me what they mean."

She laughed. "So you can pretend to know? For your _friend_?"

He picked up the bag and began walking toward the living room, where Shelley greeted him. "You remember me at all?" she asked. "We last saw each other at your nephew's wedding, years ago."

"Shelley Hayes, of course. I remember you when you were a kid. You must have been in 8th grade when your mother brought you to the dealership for that take-your-daughter-to-work day. You posed on the all cars."

Shelley laughed. "And you sternly told me to go study in the break room."

"Well, it was rather distracting to the customers."

"Look at you and your cute hat," she said, poking his black fedora with her finger. "You look like a distinguished, gray-haired Cary Grant."

"Well, Cary Grant _did_ have gray hair there toward the end," he said.

"Still, tall, dark, handsome – and classic. How tall are you?" Shelley asked.

"6'4." He walked to the the bassinet. Julie watched as he smiled down at Gracie and gently stroked what little hair she had. "Hey princess," he whispered.

He used to call Julie princess, when she was little. "Hey, Gramps," Julie said softly, "want to go out for breakfast with me?"

**[*]**

Grandpa Taylor poured two creams into his coffee. "My stomach can't take the acid anymore," he told her. He stirred, tapped his spoon on the side of the cup, and set it down on the saucer. The he pulled out his cell phone, quickly typed with two thumbs, and stuck it back in his overcoat pocket.

"Maybe you should teach my dad how to text," she said.

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks, Julie dear."

"Who do you keep texting anyway?" she asked with a smile. "Your _friend_ the poetry fan?"

"Did you know your mother used to waitress in this diner?"

"How's that going? Are you _officially_ dating her now? Are you an _item_?"

"It had a different name when she was waitressing here. And the booths were a different color."

"I know," Julie said, giving up on the teasing. "Mom said you were an amazing tipper."

"Ah…I just felt bad for her. We had similar upbringings. Similar struggles."

Julie knew her mother's parents had eventually divorced, but she didn't know her Mom had _struggled_, whatever that meant.

"Is that boyfriend of yours joining us for the christening party tomorrow?" Grandpa Taylor asked her.

"Uhmmm…." Julie said. "Who?"

"Matthew, right?"

"Uh…we're not really…we're just friends now…. that's not happening anymore."

"Why on earth not?" Grandpa Taylor asked. "Did he cheat on you? Because if he did, I'll be happy to – "

"No," Julie insisted. "No. It wasn't his fault. We just kind of…" Julie shrugged. "We broke up."

"Shame," Grandpa Taylor muttered. "I liked that young man. Matthew and I had a nice little chat in the driveway last Christmas. Then I ran into him again at the grocery store the next day."

Julie looked puzzled. "He never mentioned the grocery store to me. Did you grill him or something?"

The waitress came and cleared their empty plates and refilled Julie's water and Grandpa Taylor's coffee cup. When she was gone, Grandpa Taylor said, "I might have posed a few questions. Seemed like an upstanding young man to me. Sort of reminds me of Eric when he was a boy."

"Ewwww…"

"It's not a bad thing."

"I guess….maybe…that's kind of why we broke up. I mean, I feel bad that I hurt Matt." She was also beginning to feel like she'd made a terrible mistake, but she wasn't going to admit that. "He's a great guy. But I guess…I guess I was afraid I'd end up like my parents."

Grandpa Taylor leaned back in the booth and studied her. "You don't want a long, happy marriage consisting of love and mutual support?"

She shrugged. "I want more than Dillon. And…I don't know how happy Mom and Dad are right now."

He leaned forward. His tone was tense and concerned. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing serious. I know they love each other. Just…half the time lately…it seems like Mom's kind of a basket case and Dad's grouchy."

"Grouchier than usual?"

Julie laughed. "Yeah."

"Don't call your mother a basket case. It's disrespectful."

Julie blushed. She hated being scolded by her grandfather. He usually doted on her. "Sorry, it's just…." Julie let it all out, the tension between her and her mother, the yelling matches, the fights.

"Jules," her grandfather said, "Parents are human. And they're never the parents they _want_ to be. Lord knows I wasn't. And it was very hard for your parents to live apart while your mother was pregnant."

Julie hugged herself. Maybe it was cool in the diner, or maybe she felt a little guilty for resisting the move to Austin. Mom had stayed because of her job, but she was sure her wanting to be near Matt had played a part. She'd helped break up her family, and then dumped the reason for breaking it up.

"It couldn't have been easy for either of them," Grandpa Taylor said. "And I'm sure it was very difficult for you. Then, Gracie comes along. A young baby is hard enough at any age, but your parents have just exited their thirties. They aren't as young and full of energy as they used to be. They have pressures at work…it's a hard time on a person, on a marriage." He turned his coffee cup. "Y'all have been through a lot of changes this past year. And you're just now piecing your family back together. It's going to take a while. Have patience with your parents." He smiled weakly. "Have some mercy for them. Parents all need a little mercy. Lord knows I did. And your father didn't always give it to me."

"You must have been a great father," Julie said.

He shook his head. "I wasn't. I've tried to make up for it by being a good grandfather."

Julie smiled. "Well, you've done pretty well at that. But Mom and Dad…" She shook her head. She glanced out the window. "I just wish…I don't know. It was so much easier when I was a little girl."

"Everything's easier when you're a child. But you're becoming a young woman, Julie. And I think…with a little compassion, a little maturity …I think you'll turn out to be an excellent one."

If her mother had said that – implied she needed compassion and maturity - it would have considerably ruffled her feathers, but it was different coming from Grandpa Taylor. She turned back to him and nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

When they got back to the house, Mom and Dad were awake and even dressed. Julie's father and grandfather hugged quickly, patting each other's backs with the slap-slap that men do. Julie supposed it was a guy's way of saying he wasn't a sissy for hugging.

When they reached the living room, Shelley was holding Gracie.

"She's awake!" Grandpa Taylor exclaimed. "May I?"

Shelley handed the baby over. Grandpa Taylor cooed at her for a bit, looked at her eyes, and played with her fingers as if counting them. Then he tucked her snugly in one arm like a football, as if a baby was a comfortable appendage to him. "I brought the baby some things," he said. "And you too, Tami." He walked to the foyer and came back with his bag. With one hand he unzipped and rifled through it, Gracie still happily tucked in the nook of his arm.

He pulled out some tiny dresses and then a bottle of wine, which Mom took and surveyed. "More wine? From that boutique winery your friend owns?"

"I know you can't drink it now, with the uh…feeding… but hold onto it. That one probably needs another year anyway."

"Thanks, James, but we all know you're just going to drink it tonight. If Shelley doesn't get to it first."

Gracie began to stir and fuss.

"I need to feed her," Mom said. She grabbed a nursing blanket, plucked Gracie from Grandpa Taylor's arm, and unceremoniously popped the baby onto a breast.

Grandpa Taylor averted his eyes. "Uh….Eric….why don't we have a couple of beers in the kitchen?"

**[*]**

Eric popped open a couple of beers, handed his dad one, and leaned back against the kitchen counter. They stood there and talked football for about fifteen minutes. Then they opened two more beers and talked Athletic Directing.

"She just won't leave me alone," Eric said, telling him about the girls' soccer coach. "The other day she walks right in the middle of a meeting I'm having with my coaches, and starts bitching about uniforms."

"Why don't you just give her what she wants? Squeaky wheel gets the grease for a reason, son."

"I did! I did with the balls. But now she's asking for new uniforms. There's no money in the budget for that."

"Shuffle money around. It's not hard to find if you spend a couple of hours scouring the numbers."

"I don't _have_ a couple hours to scour the numbers."

"But you have a couple of hours to listen to her complain?"

Eric shook his head. "Nah. Point taken. That's what you'd do, huh?"

"Oh, no. I'd charm her until she believed she didn't _want_ new uniforms. But I don't think you have that talent."

Eric laughed. "No, I most certainly do not. I doubt you do either."

"You'd be surprised how many talents I've developed in my old age. I've taken up the violin."

"Like hell you have."

Just then Tami walked in with Gracie on her shoulder, and she was rubbing the infant's back. "You want to burp her?" she asked Eric.

Eric took the baby and the burp cloth and walked about the kitchen, rubbing Gracie's back up and down until she let out a cute little belch. Eric patted Gracie's bottom and then peeked in her diaper. "Does Grandpa want to change a diaper?" he asked.

"Grandpa does not change diapers," Eric's father said. "Grandpa cuddles, and bounces, and plays – Grandpa even sings – but Grandpa does _not_ change diapers."

"That's all you, honey," Tami said, and Eric left the kitchen.

"Beer for breakfast, James?" Tami asked her father-in-law with a raised eyebrow when Eric was gone.

"I'm sixty, Tami. I do what I like. And I've already had my breakfast with your daughter. Speaking of which…Do you think maybe you've been a little hard on her lately?"

Tami crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the fridge. First Shelley had lectured her about how she'd handled the English teacher situation. Then Eric had told she was giving Julie too many christening chores. And now her father-in-law? "Oh, Lord. Everyone's taking Julie's side. Everyone's telling me I'm a bad mother."

"I'm sure _no one_ is telling you you're a bad mother, Tami."

She sighed. "You don't know how much lip Julie's given me the past several months. Or what it's like to have an infant and a teenage daughter and …" She shook her head. She felt suddenly overwhelmed. She wanted to cry.

"No, I don't know," he said. "You've been direct with me in the past, Tami. Quite blunt, as a matter of fact. Let me repay the favor."

O Lord. What was he going to say?

"You told me to get counseling when I needed it, after Betty died. And I did. And it helped. So let me ask you - what are you doing for the post-partum depression? How often are you seeing a counselor? Are you on anything? I know you're breastfeeding, but -"

"- What are you talking about?"

He set his beer down on the counter. "Don't tell me you're ignoring it."

"Lord, James! You have been here less than one hour and you've concluded I'm depressed? Where did you get _your_ B.A. in psychology? Where did you go for _your_ master's?"

"The school of hard knocks. And I told you I talked to Julie this morning. She gave me a full history of your…conflict."

"_Julie._" Tami shook her head. "Well that girl has her own version of events I'm sure."

"I'm sure she does. But, Tami, your family has been under a lot of pressure. There's been a lot of adjustments this year."

Tami felt suddenly exposed. She put a hand to her face and began to cry.

Her father-in-law cleared his throat. "Tears make me very uncomfortable."

She laughed through her tears.

He stepped forward and put a hand lightly on her shoulder. "My wife was very fond of you. She was very fond of you."

Tami wiped her tears with her fingers. "Why do you always say that?"

"Because…maybe because…it's difficult for me to say that I'm fond of you, too." He dropped his hand. "Somehow, sometime – I don't know when – you became like a daughter to me."

Tami had just finished wiping away her last tear and suddenly felt like crying again. Maybe she wasn't the only fatherless child in this house after all. But fathers were supposed to dote on their daughters, not butt heads with them like they did their sons.

"You're a good mother, Tami. And _because_ you're a good mother, I know you're going to talk to Julie before this christening. And I know that on Monday, you're going to call and make an appointment with a therapist."

**[*]**

"I've been perfecting this swing," Buddy said as he pulled back his club and hit the golf ball with a crack.

Eric had taken his father golfing because he didn't know what else to do with the man this afternoon. Since Eric didn't belong to the country club, he'd had to ask Buddy to get them in. Tami had moaned when Eric had bought those golf clubs two years ago, but he'd told her it was a business expense, that he needed them to schmooze and talk shop with the boosters.

Mr. Taylor came up to the tee. "I'm not much of a golfer," he admitted. "I think it was Mark Twain who called golf a good walk spoiled." He put his ball on the tee. When he swung, it landed in the pond. He sighed.

Eric chuckled. "Step aside," he told his father. His own ball didn't come close to Buddy's, but it didn't land in the pond either.

"Good shot," his father said. "But..." Eric waited for the man to criticize him for falling short of Buddy. "... Good shot."

"Back when I worked for you, James," Buddy interrupted them, "you were always looking for a good investment. Are you still?"

"Why do you ask?"

They loaded their clubs in the golf cart. Eric would be walking, because the thing only had two seats, and even that was tight with Buddy at the helm.

"I'm thinking of expanding my car dealership to a second location."

"You don't want to do that," Eric's father said. "You're doing very well where you are – expansion will spread you too thin right now. We're in a recession. You won't have the income to sustain it. You should expand toward the end of a recession, not toward the beginning. Property will still be cheap, but you won't have to wait as long for recovery."

"Huh," Buddy said. "And you want to maybe invest when I do expand? I know you've got some cash lying around."

"Talk to me in two years."

Buddy climbed into the golf cart.

"Think I'll walk with my son," Eric's father said.

The walk was awkwardly silent for a while, and then Mr. Taylor said, "Why do you think Julie broke up with that Matthew fellow?"

"I don't know," Eric said. "I think she just felt like she's too young to commit herself to one guy like that. But she's been…different lately. My absence is probably partly to blame for that."

"Well, I told you a teenage girl needs her father."

Eric sighed. "So does a teenage boy. Funny that you never showed such an interest in me."

Mr. Taylor cleared his throat. "I showed a very _acute_ interest in you."

"Yeah. It mostly involved waking me up at 5 AM on Saturdays to run plays, or questioning my every decision, or dissecting my every game, or lecturing me about my C+ in English and ignoring the A's in everything else."

"I wanted the best for you."

"But you didn't get it, did you?" Eric walked faster, ahead of his father.

**[*]**

Eric went to pick up Tami's mother and Antonio from the airport and returned around five-thirty, at which point Tami had the table set for dinner. She'd had to put in the leaf to extend the table and draw out the extra chairs from storage to fit the whole family.

When Tami's mother came through the door, Shelley hugged first her mother and then Antonio and said, "Good to see you, dad."

Antonio was not nearly as attractive as Tami's mother. He was the poster child for average – average height, average build, average features – except for his eyes, which were exceptionally dark. Tami supposed her mother had found plenty to attract her. The man was educated, sober, financially sound, and, most importantly, treated Tami's mother with respect.

Antonio nodded to Tami and said, "Good to see you again, Tami. It's been what? Three years?"

"If not four." Unlike Shelley, Tami and Eric had never made it to Italy, despite Eric's promise of a second honeymoon there. Life kept getting in the way. Her mother had been back to the States once a year, but not with Antonio.

Mrs. Meretti immediately took Gracie from Tami. "She's beautiful. Just gorgeous."

When the Merrettis were in the living room, Mr. Taylor and Julie stood up from where they were sitting. Mrs. Merrtetti handed Gracie off to Tami in order to hug Julie, and then she turned to Mr. Taylor and exclaimed, "James! I don't think I've seen you since Julie's christening."

"Good to see you, Dolly," he said as he pulled away from her hug. "You haven't aged a day. As beautiful as ever."

"You're looking pretty good yourself. The gray flatters you. Men are lucky that way."

"Where are you staying?" Mr. Taylor asked her.

"The Holiday Inn. We'll check in after dinner."

"That's where I am too."

From beside them, Antonio stiffened. Mr. Taylor seemed to sense his discomfort and stepped away from Tami's mother. "James Taylor," he said, extending his hand to Antonio. "Your wife used to work as my secretary, a lifetime ago, at the old GM car dealership in Dillon."

Antonio shook his hand. "Antonio Merettti," he said.

"James was the best boss I ever had," Tami's mother said as she placed a hand on her husband's arm and smiled. "Until you rescued me from my life of drudgery." She kissed Antonio's cheek and the tension seemed to uncurl inside him.

"I hear you're a business man," Mr. Taylor said, "with a knack for investment. I was once a manager myself, and I have an interest in finance." He jerked his head in the direction of the back of the house, toward the porch. "Let's talk shop until dinner is ready."

As Eric began to trail after his father and Mr. Merretti, Julie whispered, "Now you'll know what it's like for me to be around you when you're talking nothing but football. Have fun."


	6. Chapter 6

The morning before the christening, Julie's mother had a heart-to-heart with her. She told Julie why the christening was so important to her, why she wanted that perfect family picture: "I want our family back."

They'd lost something those months Dad was in Austin. Julie knew that as well as either of her parents. They'd been a team, the Taylors, like the Panthers, and you don't divide your team. Dad at least should have known that. Why hadn't he simply stayed in Dillon? Julie didn't know about all the behind-the-scenes conversations, her father's offer not to move. She did know that she'd wanted to stay in Dillon, for a boy. A boy she ended up wounding. A boy who didn't love her anymore.

If Julie could undo it all and redo it, she would. If she could turn back the clock, she would. But clocks never turned back.

"I want you back," her mother told her.

Julie felt like crying, but she didn't. She wanted her mother back too. She was getting her father back, little by little, but she wanted her mother back. She wanted everything back. She wanted Matt back too.

Her mother told her that Gracie was the luckiest girl in the world to have Julie as her older sister, that Julie was the "most special person in the world." Julie didn't know how to feel about that. She was still angry with her mother, and the words seemed over-the-top, unbelievable. Still, they were a reflection of her mother's concern, her effort.

Compassion, her grandfather had told her. Have compassion for your parents. It was hard to have compassion when she was so in need of it herself.

"Today," Mom said, "I'm going to be able to celebrate my two amazing daughters."

Julie turned away and sniffled. She felt like a little girl all over again when her mother hugged her and said, "I love you."

At the christening, the minister spoke of God's unconditional love. Julie couldn't help but glance at her mother. Wouldn't it be nice, if they all could love like that? If they weren't all so wounded, so flawed, such human creatures?

But even though they couldn't love perfectly, they _could_ love. They _would_ love one another, their small family a faint reflection of something deeper, something bigger, something greater than any of them.

**[*]**

"Remember me?" Shelley asked. She had cornered Eric's cousin Philip Andrew against the punch bowl in the Taylors' living room. "I know you're in lay clothes. I know you didn't leave the monastery."

"How long has it been? Ten years?" he asked.

"Give or take. You still look _good_. Do you monks have a gym in there or something?"

"We have trails," he said. "And labor."

She took a sip of the red, fizzy liquid. "I should spike this, don't you think?"

"You know," he said, "Tami is serving wine in the kitchen. I also brought some of the beer I brew at the monastery."

Tami's hand came down on Shelley's shoulder. She guided her sister away from the punch bowl and from Philip. "You're needed outside." When they were a distance away, Tami said, "Leave that poor man alone."

"What? What's a little harmless flirtation? He's not going to _act_ on it." She looked back over her shoulder. "And he's so damn _cute_."

Outside, a dozen kids were jumping and flipping about in a small moon bounce that had a posted limit of eight. Two of them belonged to Eric's cousin Nathan Gregory, one from his first marriage and the other from his second. After the second divorce, he'd decided to come out of the closet – not to his parents, but to his brothers. Four of the kids belonged to Eric's cousin John Paul, the playboy who had shocked the clan by settling down with one woman and sticking with her faithfully for over ten years. She acted in the traveling theatre company John Paul now owned and directed, and his brood of four was home-schooled, living as they did a somewhat nomadic life. Three of the children were the offspring of Eric's cousin Geoffrey, who had simply shown up with his family without RSVPing or returning Tami's messages. Three kids had simply wandered in uninvited from the neighborhood.

Shelley nodded to her mom, who was on the back porch drinking a glass of punch and watching the chaos. Then she turned to Tami. "What am I needed for?"

Tami glanced across the yard to where a muscular, blonde, thirty-something man was tossing a football with some of the teenagers. "If you _must_ flirt with one of Eric's cousins, then go for Stephen Patrick. He's the only one who's not married, gay, or celibate. And now that you're thirty-six, I'm sure you don't care that he's younger than you anymore."

"Are you trying to fix me up, Tami?"

Their mother said, "He's good-looking, isn't he?"

"He's not bad," Shelley admitted. "What does he do for a living these days?"

"He's a podiatrist," Tami answered.

"Oh, Tami. Feet. That is so not sexy."

"He's a doctor, Shelley. A _doctor_," their mother insisted.

"And he's got dimples when he smiles," Tami added. "And _no_ girlfriend at the moment."

"Why isn't he married? What's wrong with him? There has to be something wrong with a thirty-five-year old who's never been married."

Tami and her mother both leveled their eyes at Shelley. Tami raised an eyebrow.

"Okay. Point taken." Shelley began to walk across the yard.

[*]

Julie saw her grandfather talking to Matt in a corner of the living room. Matt looked a little uncomfortable. She went over and said, "Hey."

"Hey," Matt replied.

Grandpa Taylor nodded to Matt and slipped away.

"Thanks for coming," Julie said.

"Well…we go to the same church anyway."

"But you didn't have to come to the party. I appreciate it."

Matt looked to the side. "Good punch," he said. Then he looked back. "Your dad has a lot of cousins. It's weird that they're all like his age and then there's that Maggie girl. She's pretty."

Julie bit her bottom lip. "She's a senior in _college_, Matt."

"I wasn't planning to try to pick her up or anything. Not that…not that it's any of your business if I was."

"Yeah, I really don't think she'd go for a high school boy."

Matt shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. "You never know. Sometimes older girls really like high school boys."

Julie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sometimes high school girls really like high school boys."

"I should see if your dad needs any help with the grill," he said and walked right past her.

Julie hugged herself as she watched him go.

**[*]**

Most of the guests had cleared out of the house. Eric's father had usurped his recliner, so Eric was on the couch. Mr. Taylor sat with his feet up, a sleeping Gracie Belle cradled in his arms. Antonio was in the arm chair, asking occasional questions about the game that made Eric cringe. He knew the man was born in Italy and had returned to Italy, but how could he have lived in Texas for fifteen years of his life and still not understand football?

Philip Andrew sat down next to Eric and handed him a beer.

"I don't guess you get to watch much football in the monastery," Eric said.

"No," Philip answered. "We don't have a television. But we play sometimes."

"Yeah? Touch or tackle?"

"Flag."

"Where do you put the flags? In those rope belt things?"

"We don't wear our cassocks when we're playing."

Eric sipped his beer. "This is pretty good by the way. You should really sell this stuff."

"Glad you like it." Philip put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Don't let my wife catch you," Eric said. "You seen her lately?"

Philip took his feet down. "She's cleaning up out back with your daughter." He nodded toward the recliner. "Your dad's asleep now too."

Eric stood up. "I better take my baby before he drops her."

**[*]**

"Oh I think you'll really enjoy that class next year," Tami was saying to Julie. They'd been talking for a good thirty minutes while they cleared plates and plastic utensil into trash bags from the tables that had been set up outside. The deflated moon bounce was being hauled off by the party rental place. They had to chase down a few stray plastic cups.

"Why don't you make Dad clean up out here?" Julie asked.

"He's got the baby."

"No, Grandpa's got the baby. Grandma's in the kitchen cleaning, we're here cleaning, and all the men are watching football. It isn't just."

"Life isn't just, Julie."

"You don't make Dad do enough around the house, if you ask me," Julie said. "You're working full-time now, Mom. You deserve the help."

Tami put a hand on her hip, a half filled trash bag open in her other hand. "I appreciate the empathy, Jules, but you know what? Your father works very hard. He's basically got two full-time jobs right now, with that athletic directing nonsense, and still he often makes breakfast and does the grocery shopping, and he's changed a number of diapers, actually."

Julie shook her head. "Seems to me he's always sitting in the living room watching football while you're cleaning up. But hey," she shrugged, "if that's your arrangement. I just think, when I get married, it's going to be 50/50 all the way."

Tami laughed. "You keep thinking that, honey. Nothing in marriage is ever 50/50. Sometimes you'll be working harder than him, and sometimes he'll be working harder than you, and usually you'll be working at different things. But it's never 50/50."

She scooped up one last stray cup as Shelley walked through the back gate.

"Where's Stephen Patrick?" Tami asked her.

"He had to take a phone call."

"Y'all have a nice walk? You hit it off?"

Shelley stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and shrugged. "He asked me to look him up next time I'm in Austin."

Julie glanced from her mother to her aunt and smiled.

"Well that's a good sign, right?" Tami asked.

"Well…I think know why he's still single," Shelley said.

"Why's that?" Julie asked.

"Because he talks about his job _all the time_. And his job is feet."

"Oh, Shelley," Tami said. "You just need to give him a chance. He's a good-looking doctor!"

"Not as good looking as his brother," Shelley said.

"Which brother?" Julie asked.

"Philip Andrew."

"Oh Lord, Shelley!" Tami insisted. "Leave that poor man alone!"

"Well," Shelley said, "I'm just going to go on inside to watch a little football."

"Don't you flirt with the monk!" Tami called as Shelley strode to the door.

**[*]**

Eric scooted over as Shelley wedged herself in between him and Philip on the couch. He was practically shoved up against the arm of the couch now. Why hadn't she just taken the arm chair? Gracie was still asleep in her Grandpa's arms, who had woken up when Eric tried to reclaim the baby, and who was now watching the game again.

"Do you ever get visitors at the monastery?" Shelley asked. "Is that allowed?"

Philip had scooted over a bit himself, to the other far end of the couch. "Sure. We have guests at the hermitage sometimes. You know, family, or people who are staying for spiritual retreats. And people tour the place sometimes during the day. Schools and tourists and such."

"But women can't stay overnight, can they?" Shelley asked.

"Uh…if they're there for a spiritual retreat, yeah. If they call ahead and there's space. They can't eat with the monks, though. Or go in certain parts of the monastery. Uh…why do you ask?"

"Just curious," she said. "What's a spiritual retreat like? What does a person do?"

"Are you even Catholic?" Philip asked.

"No," she said. "I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual."

Phillip smiled. "That's kind of like saying I'm not educated, but I'm smart."

"Well, you can be smart and not be educated, you know."

"Sure," Philip said, "but then you're not doing anything to improve your mind or put it to better use."

"I'm taking a real estate class," Shelley said.

"Good for you," Philip answered. "Where's Stephen Patrick?"

"He's out front talking to some foot patient, I guess."

"Hey, Philip," Eric said, "Can you get me another one of those monk beers?"

"Sure." Philip stood.

Shelley followed him into the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Reviews are welcome. Please comment, and thanks to those who have. I may slack off of my daily updates because I will be out of town this weekend.

**[*]**

Because Tami was now on an antidepressant, she had decided to switch to formula feeding. It made things easier, but it left Tami feeling guilty.

"Don't listen to those breast feeding Nazis," Eric insisted. "I was bottle fed. You were bottle fed. We both turned out fine."

"Did we, honey?"

He kissed her. "You did anyway."

So now, instead of pumping and storing, she could just leave Shelley with a can of formula. She could trust her sister with Gracie. She was less certain, however, that she could trust Shelley with Tim. The young man had ended up moving in with them and taking up residence on their couch. As if they didn't have a full enough house.

One morning, she caught Shelley watching Tim doing sit-ups. "Really?" she asked her.

"What?"

"Ewww. Ew!" Tami didn't know which was worse, Shelley flirting with her father-in-law, Shelley flirting with a monk, or Shelley lusting after Tim. _Tim_. Tim was worse. Because Shelley might _actually_ be serious about that one.

Tami told Eric she didn't think Tim living with them was going to work out. She didn't tell him Shelley was the one she was worried about. She used Julie as her excuse instead. That would motivate him. "Having that Riggins boy here with our sixteen year old daughter is like putting a can of gasoline next to a match."

And do you know what he said to her? "It would be nice if you showed a little bit more Christian charity." Unbelievable.

So Tim remained. He started calling Tami's sister "Shells." Shells.

Shelley laughed when he tried to take a beer from the fridge and said, "That's so bad."

Tami's sister pulled out all of her flirtatious charms. For a boy that wasn't even _legal_ yet. Eric's cousin Stephen Patrick had asked Shelley to "look him up" again before he left, and Tami had hoped something sensible might come of that. Yet what kind of hope was there if Shelley insisted on flirting with a teenage boy? Tami wanted to smack some sense into her. But she also wanted the free babysitting.

Eric was no help. She caught him at five in the morning one time, playing ping pong in the garage with Tim. Asking her to make him sandwiches. Lucky for him, she was taking something to stabilize her mood, because otherwise, she might have taken that ping-pong paddle and smacked him across the face with it. Instead, she just slammed the door leading to the garage.

Finally, Tami confronted Shelley about her behavior with Tim, but Shelley denied being flirty.

"This is just like high school," Shelley claimed. "What, you're jealous because he gets along with you better than he gets along with me?"

What the hell was Shelley talking about? They weren't ever in high school at the same time. In what fantasy world was any boy ever more interested in Shelley than in Tami? Unless she was talking about some 10th grade boy when Tami was already in college. And, come to think of it, Tim wasn't all that much older than a 10th grade boy. "This has nothing to do with me being jealous. That is absurd, honey. Do you realize what your life has come to?"

"What my life has come to?"

"You're fantasying after a teenage boy!"

"Don't comment on my life until you have your life, your family – "

"Oh oh oh! Don't you dare!"

It escalated from there, with Shelley concluding, "I'm surprised you're so comfortable leaving your little two month old baby with such an irresponsible little slut. So, just a little confused by that choice."

Tami felt guilty for letting words slip she hadn't wanted to say, but she was also worried about her sister. She was worried…and maybe just a little bit jealous of her freedom. It would be nice to be able to go to Dixie Chicks concerts, to jet off to Italy or Costa Rica whenever she wanted, to pursue her interest of the moment. It would be nice to have only one calendar to juggle – her own. It would be nice not to have the weight of other people's futures pressing down on her shoulders.

She looked at Gracie. "Maybe I need to grow up too."

**[*]**

Eric didn't mind hosting Tim in his house, but he hated hosting Laribee in his locker room. The rival team had moved in because the tornado had damaged their school. And with them came that damn coach, Donald Dickey. Dickey. How fitting.

That man reminded Eric too much of a kid he'd known in high school – a cocky punter by the name of Johnny McMann – a kid who had managed to get himself shot in the foot in the bathroom of a Dairy Queen. Eric had hated that kid. And he hated this coach.

The final straw was when the asshole laid a hand on Tim – shoved that teenage boy to the ground. Eric felt like one of his own kids had been attacked, and he just lost it. He grabbed Dickey by the collar and threw him against the wall and told him what would happen if he ever laid a hand on another one of his players.

He appreciated Tim thanking him for that. He appreciated that he'd made a connection with the boy. He'd always wanted a son of his own, and yet he'd long feared he would have made a terrible father to boys. He had no problem expressing affection to Julie. A boy was another matter entirely. It t was a kind of reassurance when Tim told him thank you, and so it was a crushing disappointment when, later, Eric caught the teenager leaning over Julie in her bed.

Eric wasn't just being protective of his daughter at that moment – though he was doing that too. He was being angry with his son. If Tim hadn't grabbed his things and left when Eric told him to, he was pretty sure he would have hit the boy more than once.

**[*]**

Shelley Hayes passed a test. Now that was worthy of applause. She was a certified real estate something or another now. Eric didn't know what, but he had one thought about her accomplishment: _Maybe she'll finally get out of my house. _ "You've got to think about how you're going to jump start the business," he told her. "Anything I can do to help…." _Anything I can do to get my guest bedroom office back._

She asked for an extra phone line. What the hell? Was she planning to stay here forever? And Tami…Tami didn't say no! She said, "That sounds like something we should definitely think about." Definitely?

Eric was outnumbered in this house three to one by crazy women. Tim had evened that out a little, but Tim had betrayed him.

At work that day, Eric thought about the fact that he'd thrown Coach Dickey against a wall for shoving Tim, when he himself had wanted to beat the living out of Tim the other night. He was far from perfect himself. He stopped by to try to make amends with Coach Dickey, to ask if Donald wanted to grab a beer with him.

"I don't drink," Coach Dickey said.

"You don't drink, or you don't drink with me?" He tried to extend a hand of peace, told Dickey he understood times were hard, but the man just brushed him off.

"Why don't you go take that country charm of yours and have a beer with someone else?"

Eric tossed his keys up and down in his hand as he left. The guy was just a dick. Through and through. Nothing else to it. Being nice to people didn't pay. Like with Tim. That kid was nothing but a womanizer. There hadn't been any hidden depths of character in him. Eric had been a fool to think there was.

**[*]**

Shelley was driving Eric insane. Dropping eggs, making jokes, telling his wife she needed to cut all her hair off because of the baby. That beautiful, long hair he loved to run his fingers through after sex. Or before. Or during. Or in between.

He told Tami maybe it was time for Shelley to fly the coop. And yet she stayed.

Then, one morning, he sat down in the living room, slipped a tape into the VCR, and turned on some very important game tape.

Only there wasn't any game. There was only some TV show.

If Eric had been a camel, that recording would have been the straw.

He said some things maybe he shouldn't have said. Like, "I know you're my wife's sister, but we've been wondering, when is it, exactly, that you're going to get a place of your own?"

Eric didn't get along well with Shelley, but he was generally polite. He kept his irritation shoved down around her. She was family. So when he saw her fallen face, he felt like crap. "I didn't mean it to come out like that. That came out wrong. I'm sorry."

But it did come out like that, and Shelley heard him.

So Eric wasn't feeling particularly noble when he knocked on Coach Dickey's door that afternoon to return the playbook the coach had left on the field. He'd been tempted to look at it, sure, but he hadn't.

"You're just a regular boy scout, aren't you?" Donald asked.

No, he wasn't. He was a man who lost his temper too easily. But at least he wasn't a complete ass like this man. Not one redeeming quality. "You're welcome."

Then he went home to Tami, who was not precisely pleased with him for what he'd said to her sister, but before she could go off the handle, he apologized and promised to apologize to Shelley.

"What I dread now," Tami said, "Is what we're going to do with Gracie Belle while we're at work."

"Can I tell you something? That's not our burden." They'd wanted a second child for so many years. They'd given up hope of one. "That is our _gift_." He kissed his wife, the mother of his children.

As he was headed out the door for his game, he was finally feeling half at peace. Then Julie stopped him and told him what had _really_ happened with Tim - that he'd been rescuing her instead of compromising her.

He'd nearly beaten that boy. His daughter had gotten drunk, and snuck around, and – worst of all – she had let someone else take the blame. "Damn, Julie." It was all he could manage to say, the disappointment was so thick – the disappointment in her, and the disappointment in himself. It was bad enough that he wasn't much of a brother-in-law, but – far worse - he wasn't much of a father either. "Damn."

**[*]**

Coach Dickey completely lost it on the field Friday night, taking down a player and raging. Eric went to his office afterward and lit into him. He was in the middle of yelling when Donald said, "My wife's got three months to live, and I don't have a game plan for that."

What Donald said haunted him. He'd written the man off entirely, the way he'd written off Tim. He'd forgotten that everyone had reasons for what they did, that, sometimes, we all needed a little compassion.

And then he wondered what he would do, if he learned that Tami had three months to live. If he would lose it like that. If he would take the impotent rage out on any target he could find. If he'd be able to coach at all. If he'd be able to put one foot in front of the other.

When he got home that night after the game, Gracie was already in bed. Julie was out, avoiding him at Lois's house, he hoped, instead of partying. He hadn't had a chance to ground her yet. Tami was half asleep on the couch, the TV a low murmur. She stirred when he sat down next to her. "Hey," she said, sitting up. "Strange game."

"Yeah." He put a hand on her knee and squeezed.

"What was up with that coach?"

He breathed in deeply and let out a slow, shaky breath. "Come to bed with me," he said.

"Eric, it's so late," she complained, "I just got Gracie back down, I was half asleep when you came in. I – "

"- Please," he said. "Tami…" His eyes were almost damp when he turned to her. "I _need_ you tonight."

"Eric, what's wrong?"

He leaned in and kissed her. "Please," he whispered.

She took him to bed. He was desperate for her. Afterwards, he held her tightly, his chest still rising and falling from the strength of their lovemaking.

"Eric, sugar, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

He told her about his conversation with Donald.

"My God. That poor man," she said.

"I love you, Tami. I love you, and I can't…I can't envision my world without you."

She kissed his shoulder, her lips warm against his naked flesh. "I love you, too. And I'm not going anywhere."


	8. Chapter 8

It was the weekend of apologies.

On Saturday morning, Eric called Coach Dickey, and said, "I just wanted you to know, that if you need anything…"

When the man responded curtly, Eric didn't hold it against him. He supposed he'd be curt too.

Later that day, Eric went to Tim's house. "I jumped to conclusions. I apologize. I was wrong." He told Tim, not as a coach, but as a father, that by protecting Julie, he'd done an honorable thing.

Honor meant a lot to Eric. It wasn't just a word to him. He hoped Tim knew that.

In the evening, he had a heart-to-heart with Julie on the living room couch. He made his disappointment clear. She'd lied and let someone else take the fall for her own actions - at least for awhile, before she'd come clean. "And that is something we don't teach in this family." He'd never set that example, he didn't think. "I am beyond angry. I think the best word to describe it would be hurt." But he also told her he loved her and that nothing would ever change that.

Finally, on Sunday evening, before doing the grocery stopping, he stopped by Shelley's hotel room. He knew she'd be checking out and heading to Dallas tomorrow morning.

He knocked loudly. Shelley opened the door and said, "God, Eric, don't you know how to use a phone? Do you normally just show up on people's doorsteps?"

As a matter of fact, he did. A man couldn't communicate properly on the phone. Well, Eric couldn't anyway. His long-distance relationships with Tami, first in high school and later when he was coaching at TMU, had been made even more difficult as a consequence.

It suddenly occurred to him that now might not be a good time. "I'm so sorry. Do you have…uh…company?"

"No, Eric, I did not pick up some guy at the hotel bar and bring him back to my room."

He scratched his forehead. "That's not what I was suggesting."

"It was. You want to come in?"

"Can I…can I take you out for a drink? At that hotel bar?"

"I suppose. But only if you buy me two of those fancy, girly drinks."

They settled onto two bar stools, Eric with a beer and Shelley with an appeltini.

"Listen," he said, "I came here to apologize for the way – "

"- Eric, don't bother with that. I know Tami sent you."

"Tami didn't send me. I sent myself." He put his hand flat on the bar. "Tami doesn't even know I'm here right now."

Shelley tilted her head slightly. "Really?"

"Listen. I've been thinking about this. And I've concluded that I was a bit of an ass to you."

She laughed and sipped her drink. "Mhmmm…." She set it back down on the bar.

"You change your plans, you come all the way to Dillon, you watch our Gracie Belle for free, you make it possible for Tami to get back to work…Julie's excited to see you…you always make time for Julie…and I…uh…I was rude." He nodded to the bar.

"A little bit, yeah."

"And I never even thanked you, really. For how much you helped us."

Shelley lowered her head to catch his eyes. "Are you thanking me now?"

"Yes," he said, raising his head. "Thank you."

Shelley smiled and took another sip of her martini. "You're welcome."

She was half way done with that martini, and she expected a second. The apology was over. Hell. Now what did they talk about?

Shelley, of course, did the talking, or most of it. She had plans, apparently, in Dallas. Business plans. He nodded frequently. Eventually, when she was half way through her second martini, an awkward silence descended.

"So…" Shelley said. "Do you ever read?"

"I can read," he said.

"I know you _can_. I mean, have you read any interesting books lately? Anything that wasn't about football?"

"Have you read anything that didn't have a ripped bodice on the cover?"

Shelley laughed loudly. "Oh, Eric. You don't know me at all. I read quality literary fiction."

"I'll bet."

"Okay, I don't. I read mostly cozy mysteries. What have you read lately?"

"Nothing that would interest you," he said.

"Just name one. One book. Any book."

"Haven't had a lot of time since Gracie was born. When I was in Austin, I read _To The Last Man_. It's a World War I novel. Jeff Shaara."

"Oh, yeah, he wrote _The Killer Angels_, right?"

Eric blinked in surprise. "Uh…No. No. That was Michael Shaara. Have you read that?"

"Yeah, sure." Shelley shrugged "It was pretty good."

Eric rubbed his chin and looked at her.

"I'm not stupid you know. I didn't go to a fancy four-year college like you and Tami. I don't have a history degree or a psychology degree or a master's like Tami…but that doesn't mean I'm stupid."

"Never suggested you were."

"But you're surprised I read anything but bodice rippers."

"I'm just surprised to find we've read anything in common, is all." He looked at her empty martini glass. "Want a third?"

He regretted the offer later, when he was walking her to her room, her arm around his shoulders. He tossed her on her bed. "G'night," he said. "Thanks for all your help."

Shelley put her hand on her head. "I didn't think three martinis would make the room spin," she said. "Maybe you should have bought me dinner!"

"Sleep tight," he called back from the hallway just before the door latched shut.

When he got home with the groceries later, Tami was sitting on the stool and going over a file on the kitchen bar. She looked at him rather strangely. He put the bags down on the counter and started unloading.

"Do you know Kim Mitchell?" she asked. "You know, from school?"

"Uh…."

"Calculus teacher," she said.

"I…I guess." He put the beer and milk in the fridge.

"Well, I just got the strangest phone call from her. She said she just saw you, in a hotel bar, with a pretty blonde woman, drinking and talking and laughing. And then you walked the pretty woman upstairs. I refrained from asking what _Kim_ was doing in a hotel bar, but it was very intriguing, what she saw."

He turned around. "It was Shelley, hon. I went over to her hotel to apologize. It was just Shelley."

"Well, I figured that out, Eric, but what I can't figure out is how you ended up drinking and laughing with her."

He walked over to the cabinets and put up the sugar. "Well, she did most of the drinking and laughing. But…" he turned to face Tami. "We're all right now, me and your sister. I think maybe she even likes me now."

Tami waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, Eric. She's always liked you, if only because you make me happy."

He walked over and leaned his elbows on the counter. "Do I?" he asked.

She smiled and kissed him. "You do."

"Where's Julie?"

"Working. Lois will be dropping her off at home soon. We still haven't decided how long we're going to ground her."

"We'll sort it out," he said. "You look tired."

"I _am_ tired. I'm thinking of turning in. You'll wait up for Julie?"

He nodded. "Sure. But I'll tuck you in first."

She smiled. "I bet you will."

**[*]**

Somehow, Eric stayed afloat as Athletic Director, although he'd called his father a number of times for advice. Eric had spoken to his father more in the past few weeks than he had in the past few years. He felt like he was steadily treading water in his new position, but then the volleyball coach just up and quit smack dab in the middle of the season.

Eric hit up his wife to fill the slot. He wouldn't have to find funds in the budget for her, and he wouldn't have to bother with a selection and hiring process. And, more to the point, the spot would be filled before the next game. "It's three weeks!" he assured her. "Four, at most."

The next day, as he was driving to work, he called to boast to his former Athletic Director of a father about his quick thinking and decision making.

"Son, you ever hear the expression – don't shit where you eat?"

"Uh…yeah…" Eric said, "But I'm not seeing how that applies here."

"How's Tami like being forced to take on this extra job on top of her full-time job when she's got a little brand new baby at home?"

"She loves it. She loves it. She played volleyball in high school and college you know."

"She played _one_ season of volleyball in college, son. And she played _one _season of _softball_ in college. _Softball_, Eric. Not volleyball."

His father remembered those kinds of details? "Well, she was team captain that one season. She'll be great at the job. And she needs the exercise."

"I hope you didn't tell her that, son. That she needs the exercise."

"Of course I didn't! What do you take me for? Look. I gotta go." He clicked off his cell phone and tossed it on the empty passenger's seat. He turned up the radio.

Before dinner that evening, Tami complained that the girls she was trying to coach didn't even know the rules to the game.

"Well, you know," he tried to soften her, "the first day coaching is always a reality check."

"You did not give me full disclosure on that one."

She didn't seem particularly upset, however. He was still pretty pleased with himself for his solution to the problem, no matter what his father said. Half the time, he still felt as though he could never do anything quite right as far as his father was concerned. He hoped he wasn't like that with Julie. He'd tried not to be.

His father was wrong. His solution was fantastic. Hell, Tami even started trying to recruit Tyra that night, right there over the dinner table. He grabbed his beer and excused himself to watch the game and left his wife to work her coaching magic.

Soon enough, it was his turn to cheer her on for a change. The stands were sparsely populated at the volleyball game. Just the players' parents, him, and Julie. It was fun watching Tami get into the game. When they were tied, Tami called a time out. Eric tried to overhear her pep talk. He was curious. But he couldn't make anything out. It worked though. She won. He stood up and shouted, "Good job!"

"What are they, like 1 in 7 now?" Julie muttered.

Why did she have to be like that? Her mother had been fantastic out there. "Your mom's 1 in 1!"

Later, as they were leaving the gym, Eric rubbed Tami's shoulders. "That was great, babe," he said from behind her. "Fantastic game." He stopped walking and held her still while Julie walked on ahead. He bent down and kissed her cheek. "You know what I think you deserve?"

"What's that?" Tami asked.

"A traditional, post-game, victory lay. That's what you deserve."

She laughed and started walking again, but she took him up on the generous offer later that night.

It was only a few days after the game that he realized why Julie had been so grumpy at the game. She was jealous of Tami's time with and support of Tyra. He saw an exchange between the three of them after dinner one evening, and he called it, right then and there. In the car the next day, when Tami told him how satisfying it was to have some teenage girls listening to her for a change, he thought two things: (1) My dad was wrong. I was a genius to put my wife in this position, and (2) My dad was right. This has created a little problem for the family. Only the problem, unexpectedly, involved Julie.

He told Tami that he was pretty sure Julie was jealous of Tyra. She brushed it off. Sometimes he got the sense she didn't take him seriously. "Don't get all bent out of shape about it," he said.

"I just think you're barking up the wrong tree."

"Well I may be barking up the wrong tree, but I just wanted to say something!" He could feel his jaw clenching. She really didn't have much regard for his opinions sometimes. "Just keep it in mind."

She did keep it in mind, apparently. She not only kept in mind, but she eventually acted on it. It made him feel good, to know she'd gradually taken his words to heart. He supposed he was like that himself with her – defensive at first, when she had some criticism or concern – but willing to hear in time.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey, Eric," his father said. "Good to hear from you again. It's a bit late isn't it? Everything a'ight?"

Eric was sitting in a chair on the back patio. The crickets chorused loudly. It was chilly, and he sat with one hand in his jacket pocket, the other on his cell phone. He felt awful. He'd just picked up Matt and Matt's grandmother from the hospital. Matt had smelled like a damn drunk, like Tami's father had that first Thanksgiving Eric had shared with her family.

Eric had lost his temper a little bit after he brought Matt home. He'd yelled at him, seized him by the neck, and tossed him in the bathtub, fully clothed, before turning on the water. And then Matt had said what he had said…and the anger and disappointment had dissolved.

Matt was just a hurt and broken boy who felt very much alone. Eric knew what that felt like. He'd felt that after his sister died and his mother retreated into herself. He'd been so alone that he'd said awful things to his mother – horrible things – just to get her to talk. Instead, she'd slapped his mouth, and once, to stop her, he'd grabbed her wrist and shoved her hard.

His father, not seeing the big picture, had only caught him shoving her against the wall and had grabbed him by the shirt collar - not entirely unlike the way in which he'd grabbed Matt by the back of the neck. Eric's father had been more out of control, more violent – he had slammed Eric against a wall before leaving him on the living room floor - but Eric couldn't help making the comparison. He couldn't help fearing that he was turning into his own father.

Eric had been so broken back then, and he'd just wanted his father to see his brokenness, to help him pick up the pieces. His father hadn't. Tami had. But Eric had always wanted to be the kind of father who _**would**_ see. The kind of father who would have compassion on his children.

Eric loved that boy, Matt. But until Matt was weeping in that shower, Eric hadn't seen anything but red. He wondered if that's how his father had felt, all those years ago, when he'd slammed Eric against the wall - a churning sea of impotent love and cold disappointment overflowing into action, a father who had half lost his son. And he wondered if his father had felt guilty immediately after – guilty and powerless and broken hearted - the way Eric felt when he'd driven home from Matt's house.

He wanted to ask his father all these things, but of course he couldn't. "Everything's fine. I just called to tell you that you were completely wrong about the volleyball thing. Tami loved it, and she did a great job."

"You called me at midnight to tell me I was wrong about…volleyball?"

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

Why did the crickets sound so loud?

"So. Yeah. I guess that's all." Eric rolled a stray twig against the ground using his foot.

"How's Tami doing?" his father asked. I had a conversation with Julie that weekend I came up for the christening. It sounded like there might be some…tension there."

"There was, but she and Julie have worked all that out now I think."

"So that's not why you called either?"

"I told you why I called!" Eric kicked the twig.

"Listen, I can't help you if you won't talk to me. I know I haven't always been the warmest father. But I tried. I'm...trying."

Although he had been a warm father, Eric thought, with Debbie. "I've been thinking." Eric sighed. "I'm thankful I had daughters instead of sons. Not that I've done a great job with my daughters so far either."

"Julie's a fine girl. Good student, keeps her nose clean."

Well, his father didn't know about Julie getting drunk and having to be rescued by Tim, and then allowing Tim to take the blame for her.

"She's a tad immature and entitled," Mr. Taylor continued, "but life will knock her around a bit and eventually she'll grow out of that, just like you did."

"When was I ever _entitled_?"

"Gracie's an angel. You're a fine father, Eric. I warrant if you surveyed all the players you've coached over the years, you'd find a fair number of them who wished _you'd_ been their father."

"I doubt that." He'd recently misjudged Tim and kicked him out of the house without giving him a chance to defend himself. He'd tossed Matt in a bathtub. He couldn't remember Lance's name. Or San Diego's for that matter. _Santiago_! That was it.

"Well," his dad said, "you're a better father than I was, if that's at all reassuring."

Eric closed his eyes and breathed in. "You weren't that bad." He'd complained about his father to Tami once, when they were teenagers, and she'd been a bit dumfounded. _He doesn't get drunk_, she'd said. _He holds down a job. He comes to all your games._ He supposed it all depended on your baseline, and Tami's baseline had been pretty low back then, given her own father.

"Hm. Thanks, son."

Eric opened his eyes and looked up at the moon, half obscured by a dark cloud, but still breaking through. "Nah, I'm serious. I mean…you gave me a sense of honor. You gave me that. And you made sure I got a good education. And you taught me to respect my wife, which I'm sure Tami appreciates. You did a'ight."

"And you're giving all that to your kids. That and…more."

"Thanks, Dad." He shifted in his chair. "I better go. Sorry I called so late."

When he came inside, Julie was doing her homework at the kitchen table. He put a hand on her head. "It's late, Monkey Noodle. What are you doing still working?"

"I've got a big test coming up."

"A'ight. Don't stay up too late." Tami and the baby had been asleep for a while, he imagined. It was going to take him awhile to wind down though. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down at the table.

_Everyone leaves me_, Matt had said tonight. Julie was on that list. "You know, Julie, just because you and Matt aren't dating anymore doesn't mean you can't be friends."

She looked up from her book, clearly startled by the out-of-the-blue nature of the topic. "We _are_ friends. Sort of."

He turned his bottle on the table. "He could use a true friend right now I think. Just…throwing that out there." He picked up his bottle and sipped.

"Dad?"

The bottle made a sucking sound when he took it out. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. Thanks for not completely flipping out about the…drinking thing. And for…for still loving me."

"Julie, like I told you, my love for you is one thing that's _never_ going to change. But you're still grounded."

She nodded. She looked like she was about to cry. He stood up and came over and hugged her. "We all make mistakes. God knows I've made my share. But you, Julie – you and your little sister – you are the two things I will never regret."

"What about mom?"

"Well…" he shrugged. "Most of the time I don't regret marrying her either."

Julie laughed.

"I heard that," Tami said, walking into the breakfast nook with an apparently freshly fed Gracie in her arms. She smiled at Eric and Julie both.

He put an arm around her waist and kissed Gracie Belle's head. Then he put his free hand on Julie's shoulder. "I love all my girls," he said.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Reviews and comments are appreciated.

**Chapter Ten**

"Something wrong, hon?" Tami asked when her husband returned to the Taylor dinner table. He looked confused.

Eric put his napkin back in his lap.

"Dad?" Julie asked. "Who was on the phone?"

"My father. He said he's coming to the game tomorrow. He never comes up for the games I coach. Ever."

"Oh, he's been three or four times, Eric," Tami insisted as she reached for the salad and refilled her plate. She never understood why Eric always seemed to exaggerate his father's failings. Maybe this was just the way it was between fathers and sons.

"Says he's bringing someone," Eric muttered.

"Ah," Julie said. "A…_female_ someone?"

Eric looked at her warily.

Tami asked, "Is it the woman who owns that winery he keeps sending us wine from?"

Julie chortled.

"You two know about this?" Eric asked.

"We're speculating," Tami said. She glanced at Julie. "At least, _I'm_ speculating. Julie?"

Julie shrugged.

"What are you _speculating_, exactly?" Eric was holding his fork rather tensely.

"Sweetheart," Tami said, "if he's bringing this woman to your game, he probably wants you to meet her, because it's probably reached a certain stage."

Eric shook his head. "Nah. He said he's bringing her because she's never been to a live football game. There's no way in hell my father is dating a woman who's never been to a live football game."

"How can she live in Texas," Tami asked, "and never have been to a live football game?"

"I don't know," Eric answered. "He says she's only lived here two years, but that's no excuse. Before that she was in New York, and before that, Germany. She just became a U.S. citizen last year. So at least I know she's not after him for that."

Tami shook her head.

"I hope she's not after him for his money," he continued. "He must be worth a million by now, the way he invests."

"She owns a _winery_, Dad," Julie reminded him. "I don't think she's exactly hard up for cash."

Eric pointed his fork at her, "Maybe the winery is in debt. Maybe it's on the verge of bankruptcy. Maybe that's why he keeps buying the wine."

Tami raised her glass. "Or maybe he buys it because it's actually pretty good." She took a sip. "You know, she doesn't have to be _after_ him for anything other than himself, Eric. Your father can be a very charming man when he _wants_ to be."

"So can I," he grumbled.

"Yes. When you _want_ to be, sugar. It's a shame you don't want to be more often."

He smiled. "You want me to charm you this weekend, babe? Have Julie watch Gracie, go out for a nice dinner, maybe a little dancing, maybe a little late night – "

Julie threw up a hand. "Stop. I don't need the details. Just stop right there."

"Is he staying with us?" Tami asked.

"No." Eric shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "They're staying at the Plaza."

The plaza was the only luxury hotel within thirty miles of Dillon. "Yeah," Tami said with a smirk, "that's where I like to stay with my _friends_."

[*]

Julie's father had already left for the game by the time Grandpa Taylor and his lady friend arrived at the Taylor house, but they were all planning to go out for a late night dinner late. Dad rarely ate before a game. Julie didn't know why, since he was always famished afterward.

Mom had gone to the kitchen with Grandpa to put away the wine sampler Katrina had brought them. The woman had insisted Julie call her by her first name, which had made both Julie's mother and grandfather frown slightly. To be fair, though, Katrina's last name would have been hard for Julie to say without sounding like she was angry and had a head cold.

Julie was trying to form an opinion of her. Katrina was beautiful, she supposed, for a woman of her age. Her reddish brown hair was thick and luxurious though probably dyed. Julie wasn't sure what generation to put her in – her mother's or her grandfather's – because the woman was right in the middle – ten years older than Mom, but ten years younger than Grandpa. She didn't have Grandpa's classic reserve and formal politeness, but she also lacked Mom's more down-to-earth easy charm. Julie might have called her sophisticated, if she were less open.

"You don't have much of an accent for someone who moved here as an adult, " Julie observed.

"I didn't think the accent was good for business, so I took classes to train it out. Of course, I ended up with something more Midwestern than Texan. I never expected to settle here. I thought I'd stay in New York for a few years and then retire back to Germany."

"So why did you settle in Texas?"

"I got tired of working in corporate management before I was ready to retire. That cute little winery went up for sale in the Hudson Valley, at a bargain price. It's been a steep learning curve, but I love wine, I've got good people working for me, and I couldn't turn down the opportunity."

"Is it really true you've _never_ been to a football game?"

Katrina leaned forward in a conspiratorial gesture and glanced toward the kitchen. "I never even _watched_ football," she admitted, "until I met James. Then I tried to read up on the rules, and I felt like such a fool. I have two graduate degrees and I was still a little bit confused." She leaned back. "Promise you'll tell me what's going on tonight."

"So I get to play Cyrano de Bergerac for _both_ of you?"

Katrina smiled slightly. "What do you mean by that?"

Julie felt suddenly guilty for the slip. She certainly couldn't explain that she'd been interpreting Katrina's favorite poems for Grandpa so he could appear to understand them. "What are your graduate degrees in?"

"I got an M.B.A. while I was still in Germany. And I just finished my Master's in literature. It was something to do."

"Well, then, when we go to the game tonight, you'll be able to see how _Moby Dick_ is a metaphor for this whole town."

"James said you were literary."

Julie shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. I have no idea what I want to do with myself, and it's not like I'm ever the most gifted person in the room." Her parents expected her to excel academically, and she did, but Julie had never felt truly clever like Landry, or artistic like Matt, or athletically talented like Tim, or ambitious like Lyla.

"My father used to tell me, Katrina, if you're the most gifted person in the room, you're in the wrong room. Sounds to me like maybe you're in the right room most of the time."

Julie had certainly never thought of Dillon as the "right room," but now that she thought about it, she was lucky to know the people she knew. She was lucky to have been with Matt, too. She'd been trying to escape just because the door appeared closed. She'd never really stopped to ask herself if there was a better room on the other side.

[*]

Coach Taylor unbuttoned his jacket despite the chill of the fall wind. The adrenaline rush was sending heat through every nerve in his body. He could feel the eyes of the entire town on the field, and among them, his father's eyes. Thank God they had Brian Williams and that Coach Taylor had built his offense around the boy, because Smash was going to bring them all the way to State.

Coach Taylor was yelling and moving down the sidelines when Brian went down. It didn't worry him at first. It was when Smash Williams didn't get back _up_ that Coach Taylor's stomach cinched in on itself.

They won the game in the end, but they had one more game before they could go to State, and Smash wasn't going to be able to play.

"What's your backup plan?" Those were his father's first words to him in the parking lot.

Well, not really. His father's first words were, "Good game, son. Very close. You made some good calls. Too bad about that boy's knee." But Eric didn't really hear those words. He just heard the concluding question, _What's your backup plan?_

"Dinner," Eric answered. "Right now, my backup plan is dinner."

"You signed a three-year contract, didn't you?"

"Two." Two years, and then he'd be up for renewal. At least he _thought_ it had said two years when he signed. He hadn't exactly read every line. He'd been in a hurry to get home, and Buddy had given him the verbal overview.

"They'll probably renew, even if you don't make it to State this year," his father said. "Where are we eating? What's nice and open at this hour?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Julie sat sandwiched in the back of the SUV between her Grandpa and Katrina, Dad at the helm. Mom had left Gracie at home with a babysitter. They drove all the way into the next town, to a steak place with white tablecloths and wine by the bottle. Julie didn't know if Dad wanted to impress Grandpa, or if he just wanted to be out of Dillon so people would be less likely to interrupt their late night meal with questions about Smash's injury and his backup plan for the playoffs next week.

Julie slid out of the car after Grandpa, but Katrina just sat there and waited for him to come all the way around and open her car door. Dad sometimes opened the car door for Mom, but it was kind of unpredictable when he would do it, and Mom certainly never _waited_ for it. Then Grandpa opened the restaurant door for Katrina, _and_ took her coat, _and_ pulled out her chair. He even _ordered_ for her, after she told him what she wanted. Julie wondered what he was going to do next. _Cut_ her _steak_ for her? Yet Katrina just smiled through it all as if she didn't have two master's degrees and her own business. Old people were weird.

Dad kept looking around the restaurant like he expected someone to come up and toss a roll of toilet paper across the tabletop. Katrina tried to make conversation with him, but he only grunted, until Mom poked him in the ribs under the table, and then he became suddenly more sociable. "How do you like Texas?" he asked her.

"I love the stark beauty of El Paso and the Hudson Valley," she replied. "And the friendly people." She glanced at Grandpa. "And the rugged men."

"Well we are 'the friendly state'," Dad said, and looked to his right again.

"It must be stressful on that field," Katrina said, "literally having to think on your feet and make last minute calls like that. It reminds me of the floor at Wall Street."

Dad turned back to face her. "_Wall Street_?"

"It's just a metaphor, Eric," Grandpa said in a warning tone.

"Well, I don't know anything about Wall Street," Dad said. "I just grew up in small town Texas." He looked at Grandpa as he spoke. "To a couple of simple parents who married young and stayed married for thirty years. _Thirty_." Then he winced and bent forward slightly. Mom must have poked him again, harder this time.

[*]

They had to go back to the Taylor house to get Grandpa's car before he and Katrina moved on to the Plaza Hotel. It was almost midnight when they pulled into the driveway, the glow of the headlights illuminating the tail end of the toilet paper waving from the trees. Dad slammed the SUV's door.

Grandpa gave Katrina his hand as she stepped down from the car, and Julie followed her out. She saw the spray paint on the garage.

"Someone vandalized the house," Katrina said. "Do you need to call the police?"

Julie snorted. "It's either someone from the rival football team," she said, "or someone from Dillon who's upset my dad let Smash Williams get injured."

"He didn't _let_ the boy get injured," Katrina said. "It just happened."

Dad was pacing the front yard, looking up and down the street, though of course the perpetrators would be long gone by now. Mom was putting a hand on his shoulder and telling him to let it go, but instead he started angrily ripping the paper out of the tree.

"They trashed your son's house over _football_?" Katrina asked Grandpa.

"This is Texas." Grandpa smiled slightly. "You still have no idea. It's quite an oasis, that winery of yours, isn't it?"

Dad approached them now, hands on his hips.

"Want me to stay and help clean up?" Grandpa asked.

Dad shook his head. "Sorry about the mess," he said to Katrina. "It was nice to meet you. Y'all enjoy your stay at the Plaza." It was clear he wanted them to leave.

Grandpa put a hand on Katrina's back and began ushering them in the direction of his car. "Come on, darling. It's getting late. Eric, I'll call you in the morning. But let's not golf this time."

As Grandpa closed Katrina's car door and went around to his own, Dad turned to Mom and said, "Did he just call her _darling_?"

"Yes, honey, he did."

"He used to call my mom that. He couldn't even come up with an original endearment?"

Mom put an arm around his waist and began ushering him toward the house. "Why, what are you going to call your girlfriend after I kick the bucket?"

"Salma," he said, "or maybe Ms. Hayek."

Mom laughed and kissed his cheek. He smiled for a minute, but he was frowning again by the time he got through the front door.

[*]

"Would a blow job help?" Tami asked.

Eric had been lying on his back, tense and straight as a board, for the past ten minutes.

"Huh?" he asked, startled from his reverie.

"What are you worried about? Smash or your father's girlfriend?"

"No - " He sat up against the head board. "- Go back to that thing you said before."

"Which are you more worried about?"

"Did you or did you not just offer me a blowjob?"

"Later," she said and patted his chest. "Tell me what you're most worried about. _Talk_ to me."

"Babe, I'll be much more relaxed if – "

" – Oh fine! But you have to stay awake long enough to reciprocate."

"To reciprocate by talking?"

"No, Eric. You can put your mouth to a better use than that."

He smiled, but later, when they were both satisfied and spooned together, the covers heavy against their flesh, she did make him talk. "Do you think Smash's knee will heal in time for college?"

"I don't know," he muttered. "It was bad. Did you hear the first thing my dad said to me when I got in the parking lot?"

"Good game?"

"No!" Although maybe his dad had said that first.

"You made some good calls?" she asked.

_Had_ his dad said that? "No, that thing about a back-up plan." He sighed. "We've got a playoff game next week."

"You'll come up with something, sweetheart. I know you."

"This town expects nothing less than State. Even though almost no team ever wins two years in a row."

"So the sex _didn't_ help? You're still uptight."

He chuckled. "Oh, it helped."

"Katrina seemed nice." Tami turned in his arms to face him. "She's an intelligent, capable sort of woman. It's a little weird that she's only ten years older than me, but…that's what time does, I guess."

"Hmmm."

She put a hand on his cheek. "You have to let your Dad move on, you know."

"He's a grown man, Tami. He doesn't need my permission."

"No, he doesn't. But he needs your blessing."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The next morning Eric took his father to the range – not the golf range this time, but the firing range. He dusted off his own rifle and borrowed one from Coach McGill. It was a rainy Saturday so the indoor range was crowded, and they had to wait for a lane. As they sat on the benches in the waiting room, Eric's father said, "Can you believe Katrina has never been shooting? I'll have to take her sometime."

"Well, it's not hard to believe, since she'd never been to a football game. How is that even possible?"

"Have you ever been to an opera, son?"

"Hell no."

"Not everybody has tried everything."

"Isn't it hard, though, that you don't have that in common? I mean, it took a while for Tami to really _appreciate_ football, but she at least knew the game. She grew up _around_ it. She knew the rules."

Mr. Taylor shrugged. "Katrina makes an effort. She came, didn't she? And football's not my life anymore, the way it is yours. It's your job, and it's a huge part of who you are."

"It's a huge part of who _you_ are."

Mr. Taylor shifted his gun bag with his foot. "Katrina and I have other things in common anyway."

Eric snorted. "Such as opera?"

"She only made me do that once. But we both have business minds. Finance, management…I can talk about all that with her. It used to bore your mother to tears."

Eric stiffened. "Don't compare them."

His father sighed. "Your mother was the love of my life. I can only see other women in comparison to her." He leaned his head back against the wall. "I started dating seven years ago. And none of them compared."

_Seven_ years ago? _None_ of _them_? How many women had his father been with? "You didn't wait long, did you?"

"I waited _three years_."

"How is it that I didn't know you ever saw _anyone_ until now?"

"I didn't think it a necessary thing to mention. None of those…forays…ever grew serious."

"And this one has?" Eric was glad when their lane was called, because he didn't really want to hear the answer. He grabbed his gun case up. Between the shots and the ear muffs, they couldn't hear each other well, so the conversation ceased

[*]

Tami rocked Gracie's car seat, which she'd set on the floor of the diner beside the booth. "How long have you and James been dating?"

It had fallen to Tami to entertain the girlfriend while Eric took his father shooting. Tami hoped Eric and his father managed to have a real conversation about Katrina, but she was pretty sure Eric had chosen to go the range precisely to avoid that.

"He first visited my winery about a year ago," Katrina answered. "We had a lovely conversation. Then he kept coming back for tastings every week for three months, so I finally asked him if he wanted to take me out."

"He didn't just _ask_ you out? I never thought of James as the shy type."

"I went through a pretty bitter divorce five years ago, and I might have mentioned to him in our first conversation that I'd completely sworn off men. He's definitely not shy. But he's very patient in his persistence."

"Eric's persistent too. I wouldn't _exactly_ call him _patient_, though." It was a good thing her husband was cute when he was ruffled. "Eric sometimes responds impulsively to things, but then he reconsiders and fixes his mistakes." Tami smiled. "It's one of the things I love about him - that he can say _I'm sorry_. Too many men, once they do something one way, _have_ to keep insisting it's the right way."

Katrina nodded. "James might have a little of that need to be right in him. And I get the impression he had even more of it in his youth. But he's a good man. He's attentive and respectful and charming and intelligent. I was a little surprised when he told me he used to be a football player. I guess I had some stereotype in my mind."

"I did too, before I got to know Eric, but that's because I dated the stereotype." Tami leaned back as the waitress refilled their coffee cups. She wondered at her father-in-law dating a divorced woman and staying with her in a hotel. He'd been a fairly devout Catholic most of his life. "Are you Catholic?" she asked.

"I'm Lutheran. It's not that different. But I can't take communion when I go to church with James, which irritates me."

A man stopped at the table. Tami vaguely recognized him from around town, or maybe he was a parent at the school. "So," he said to her, "What's your husband's backup plan for the playoffs?"

Tami flashed a broad, false smile. "And a good morning to you, too."

The man shook his head and walked on.

"Well," Tami said, turning back to Katrina, "Catholics…Lutherans…none of it matters. As you can see, there's only _one_ religion in Texas."

"Football?" Katrina sighed. "I guess I better start studying the scriptures."

Tami promised she would lend Katrina a couple of useful books before she returned to El Paso.

[*]

When they were washing up at the sinks after shooting, Eric's father said, "What do you think of Katrina?"

Eric ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and began drying his hands. "Last night, you asked me what my backup plan was. I don't have one." That should distract the man. Eric waited to see what criticism his father would level at him, but his father didn't respond at all. So Eric continued, "I suppose we'll lose the playoffs now."

"You remember that playoff game I had the year Debbie was born?"

That had been his father's last season in the AFL. "I was a little kid. So no."

"No one thought we would win because the quarterback injured his shoulder the day before, and Coach didn't have a decent second string."

Eric tossed his paper towel in the trash. "Yeah, so what did he do?"

"He prayed."

"And y'all won?" Eric couldn't remember. He'd studied his father's career as a boy, but he'd forgotten all those statistics by now.

Mr. Taylor picked up his gun case. "No. We lost. But life went on. And that coach went on to have an illustrious career in the NFL. Lunch?"

[*]

The waiter dropped the check on their table as he passed. Mr. Taylor reached for it, but Eric snatched it out of his hand. As Eric was slapping his credit card down in the holder, his father asked again, "What do you think of Katrina?"

Eric set the credit card holder up on the edge of the table, and the waiter, like a passing whirlwind, grabbed it immediately. "She's a little young for you, isn't she?"

"How so?"

"There's less of an age difference between Tami and Katrina than there is between Julie and Gracie. And you're my father. You wouldn't want someone of _my_ generation dating Julie, would you?"

"That is one contorted web of logic there, son. Katrina's not young enough to be my daughter. I was _ten_ when she was born. Our age difference is perfectly unremarkable."

Eric shrugged. "A'ight. You asked what I thought."

"I asked what you thought of _her_."

"I don't _know_ her."

Mr. Taylor cleared his throat. He pushed his mostly empty plate aside. Eric was sipping his beer as his father said, "I'm going to ask Katrina to marry me."

The brew seemed to grow as thick as molasses in Eric's throat. He choked it down. "Why?"

"Why?" his father repeated.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I'm attracted to her. And I respect her. And I enjoy her company. And I don't want to spend my twilight years alone."

"Do you love her?"

"Eric, you've been married to Tami for twenty years. Did you love her when you married her?"

"Of course I did!"

"Of course you did. But did you love her in _anything_ like the way you love her _now_?"

Eric scratched his chin and studied his father.

"It takes a long time to really _learn_ to love a woman, son. And I may not even have twenty years left."

Eric sighed. "So when's this wedding to this woman you've dated less than a year?"

"I haven't even proposed yet. I said I'm _going_ to. I wanted to talk to you about it first."

"Why?"

"Because I had a notion you might care." He paused as the waiter returned Eric's credit card. When the man was gone and Eric was scrawling his signature on the receipt, Mr. Taylor continued, "I thought it might upset you. And I had this foolish idea that we'd talk it out, father to son, and that in the end you wouldn't take it as a personal insult, as yet one more failing in my long list of failings as your father." He stood up, pushed in his chair, and turned as if to leave.

"Sit down," Eric ordered.

His father turned back and rested his hand on the chair.

Eric hissed, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Mr. Taylor sat down again. "You're a father now. You _know_ now how hard it is. And you didn't grow up in a world where no one ever talked to you about how to be a good parent. Hell, you've got damn parenting _websites_ now. You didn't grow up with a father who beat your mother or who put out his cigarettes on your bare skin until you were finally big enough to hit him. You didn't lose your baby girl. And you didn't watch the wife you loved turn away from you for two years because of it. I did the best I could, Eric." He slapped his hand palm down on the table, and the empty beer bottles shivered. "And yet my best has _never_ been _good enough_ for you."

Eric stated him straight in the eyes. "Well, then, you know exactly how I felt most of my childhood."

Mr. Taylor slowly closed his eyes. When he opened him, he asked, "Did I really make you feel that way?"

"Yes. You did. Sometimes you still do."

"Forgive me."

Eric clenched his teeth together, but not because he was angry. He didn't recognize this emotion that was starting to sweep over him.

"Son, please… _forgive_ me."

Eric glanced around the restaurant to make sure no one was watching them. He swallowed hard, but he knew he still didn't quite have control of the tears that were starting to pool. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

[*]

Eric and Tami decided not to go out on a date night after all. They were too tired to be seen in public, but not too tired to enjoy one another's company. They had a post-baby-down date instead, sneaking the wine into their bedroom, locking the door, and only opening the bottle after they'd made love.

Tami was sitting up in bed now, leaned against Eric, a blanket to her waist and a wine glass in one hand. "How did your day go with your dad? Y'all talk at all?"

He lazily stroked her bare shoulder with his fingertips. "You know," he said, "I'm forty years old. And today, for the first time, I realized my father is just a human being. What took me so long, do you suppose?" He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped.

She turned and kissed his cheek.

"You think Julie's going to hate me one day?" he asked as he lowered his wine glass.

"No, hon, I don't. And I don't think _you've_ ever _not_ loved your father."

"He's going to propose to that woman."

"I like Katrina." Tami shifted slightly against him. His arm slipped down around her waist. "I think she'll be good for him. Broaden his horizons a little. But I know it's hard for you to imagine him moving on from your mother."

"It's hard for me to imagine _myself_ moving on from _you_. So I can't really put myself in his place, you know?"

"So you really think you'd just be a lonely old man if I ever died?"

"No," he said. "I have every intention of dying first." He bent his head to kiss her lips, the wine mingling with the taste of tongues. He set his glass down on the nightstand and then began to gently fondle her breasts.

She smiled and murmured lightly.

"You want to put that glass down?" he asked.

She drained it first.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **I've enjoyed developing Season 2 in this story. I am now moving further into the period between season 2 and 3. We never get to see anything from January to July! I won't be going into Season 3, however. Please comment! Reviews are encouraging.

**Chapter Thirteen**

Coach Taylor finished out the season in humiliation, his much heralded return to the Panthers dissolving into a whimper. He had more time for his "part-time" job as Dillon High's Athletic Director when winter rolled around. He'd begun to learn the ropes, and he actually felt like he wasn't treading water anymore when it came to scheduling and equipment invoices. In early February the principal called him into his office.

"Eric," the man said, "the baseball coach is about to leave if we don't boost his salary, and he just took us to the championships two years ago. I want to give him the Athletic Director position. Next year, would you be willing to teach one American History class for the same supplemental pay instead?"

"Hell yes!" Eric answered. Anything to be done with this god-awful paperwork. Even grading papers was better than dotting i's and crossing t's in the bureaucratic maze.

"What's your wife have a master's in?"

"My wife? Uh…Counseling." Why was the principal asking _that_?

"I'd have thought it would be administration. I ran into a bit of a bind last week while my assistant principal was home sick, and she really did some serious pinch hitting that helped me out."

Eric didn't know anything about that. Tami had seemed busier lately, but he'd been preoccupied with some missing field hockey equipment, a sudden scare that one of his players might not qualify next year, and a science teacher who was trying to get a rifle team re-started (Dillon hadn't had one in ten years). Eric and Tami hadn't enjoyed a post-baby-down date in over a week. They really needed to split a bottle of wine and catch up.

"But I don't know if they'll consider someone without at least a master's in administration," the principal continued.

"Consider for what?"

"I'm leaving this summer," he said. "My wife got a job in California. They'll be looking for a new principal."

What did that have to do with Tami? Tami had worked as a junior high guidance counselor for three years, a lifetime ago, and as a high school counselor for less than two. She had fewer than five years of work experience under her belt, none of which were in administration. Weren't principals usually drawn from a pool of assistant principals? Didn't they have to know something about how a school was run?

And that was a hell of a job. The principal had to be in before the teachers and leave after them. They had weekend meetings and conferences and God knew what else. That was no job for a woman who had a relatively new baby and whose husband was the head football coach and had to be out of the house a lot. One parent had to be home in the afternoons. A guidance counselor got home in the afternoons.

"Huh," Eric said. "Wouldn't the assistant principal just step up and fill that role?"

"He's retiring the year after next. He's got one more year left, and he doesn't want the ultimate responsibility. He always seems to be on the verge of a heart attack as is. Also, he's not a very personable guy, to be honest. Your wife's got that going for her."

"She _is_ personable," Eric agreed.

"Tell Tami to submit her resume. She doesn't have quite the experience and education they're looking for, but the woman's clearly got a gift for administration. I saw it last week. And she knows our school. It'd be better than someone from the outside, who's never worked here. And she'd have _my_ recommendation. It's a long shot, but…have her send in her resume."

"Uh…yeah I'm not sure she'd want to do that. She likes being a counselor."

"Well, she told me she had fun putting out fires last week. I think she likes the adrenaline rush. Just tell her."

"Oh…kay."

When Eric was back in his office, Coach McGill took the chair across from him. Mac squeak-rocked back and forth while popping sunflower seeds into his mouth. "You hear the principal is leaving for his wife's job?"

Eric scrawled his signature on an equipment order and looked up. "Yeah."

"Moving for his _wife's_ job. Not just moving, but moving out of Texas! Can you imagine that? Would you ever think of doing a thing like that?"

"Well I'm pretty sure Tami would never _ask_ me to do a thing like that." He returned his attention to his paperwork.

"That's for sure," Mac said. "Quit your job to move for _hers_? Move out of Texas! No, you've got a good woman there, Eric. She's your constant support. She's like the wind beneath your wings."

Eric eyed Mac wearily. "I don't have wings."

"It's a metaphor, Eric. Do you know what a metaphor is?"

"I know. I taught English for a year."

Mac spit a torrent of sunflower seed shells into the cup he held in his left hand. "Like hell you did."

"Yeah, I did. One class. Back when I was QB coach of the Matadors."

"What did you do? Show them movies all day?"

"No, I didn't show them movies all day!" Eric slapped his pen on the desk. "Matter of fact, that was the year I won Macedonia Teacher of the Year."

Mac laughed. "That's funny, Eric. That's real funny."

Eric went back to work and ignored Mac as best he could. But he did think about what the man had said. Tami had been his constant support for more than twenty years. Maybe he should be a little more supportive of her and not dismiss this principal opportunity out of hand. He should at least tell her that if she wanted to apply for this thing, he 100% supported her. And that wouldn't be hard to say, when he was pretty damn sure she wasn't going to get the job.

[*]

Eric ate his lunch in his office, as he often did, unless Tami was available to share it with him in the break room, which she rarely was. She tended to wolf down a single sandwich while going through files. He was blissfully alone – Mac had a P.E. class at the moment, and none of the other coaches were around. When he'd polished off his ham and cheese and a bag of barbecue potato chips, he licked and wiped his fingers and called his father to tell him he'd found a way out of the Athletic Director position.

"This is the last year I'll ever have to do this," Eric said as he slid his feet up onto the desk and leaned back in his chair.

"That's good. That job wasn't suited for you."

"Gee, thanks."

"I said the _job_ wasn't suited for _you_. I didn't say _you_ weren't suited for the _job_. Don't take everything I say as an insult, son."

"Sorry." Eric had promised himself he wasn't going to do that anymore. "They've got me teaching one history class instead. That'll take a lot less work."

"And you're…uh… good at that." Mr. Taylor cleared his throat. "Teaching. You're a . . . fine teacher. You…um…"

"- Dad, you don't have to try so hard. It sounds like it actually physically pains you to compliment me."

"I'm proud of your abilities. I just…I'm not good at expressing that."

"You don't have to. So…listen…I haven't heard from you in a month. Figured I should call and find out if you set a date for the wedding yet."

Eric wasn't sure if the sound his father now made was a laugh or a sigh. "Funny thing about that. Katrina said no."

"Oh." Eric felt an odd mixture of pity, concern, surprise, and a sudden urge to laugh at his father for his supreme confidence. Fortunately, the sympathy won out. "Are you a'ight?"

"I'm fine. We're still seeing each other. But she said she doesn't want to get married a second time."

"Ever? To anyone?"

"Apparently."

Eric slid his feet off his desk and rolled his chair forward so he could lean on the desk. "And you're a'ight with that?"

"No. But I don't see as I have much control over the matter. I can't force the woman to marry me. My only other choice is to walk away from her and look for someone else. But I'm not interested in anyone else. I figure I'll wait a year and ask again."

"Even though she said never?"

"Women are changeable, Eric. It's their prerogative."

"Well, I can't argue with that." Eric wished his father good luck and returned to work.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

It had been an unusually warm February day, and the temperature dropped to only fifty at night. With a fire in the outdoor chimney, Eric and Tami were content to sit on the back porch sipping red wine. Eric told Tami what the principal had told him. "You have any interest in that job?" he asked.

"Well," she said, "I think it could be kind of fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'd get to be in a position of authority, have a little more respect around that school, make some significant changes, see that our funding was a little better spent – make some real, important differences. Maybe earn a blue ribbon."

Eric's eyes widened. "That's a…that's a big goal."

"Well there's no sense in having small goals, is there?" She flashed her smile at him and it made him smile.

"I love your confidence, Tami. I love your energy. "

"In bed."

He laughed. "I think you're only supposed to add that to fortune cookies. But…yes." He refilled her wine glass. "I support your application 100%. You would make an exceptional principal I'm sure." He set the bottle down. "But…uh….you're not going to be _too_ disappointed if you _don't_ get it, are you?"

"No, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing."

"Good." He raised his wine glass. "To my beautiful wife. To opportunity."

She clanked his glass. He sipped his slowly. He made sure she got the third glass in the bottle. When they made love latter, she was just a little bit giggly. She kept telling him how adorable his ears were. When she snuggled in against his chest, she said, "When I was a teenager, I promised myself I'd never have sex within eight hours of drinking."

"If you stuck to that rule, we'd never have sex."

She slapped his chest. "I don't drink that much." She raised her head. "Do I?" she asked with concern.

"I just meant you have your daily evening glass. Or you used to." She hadn't when she was pregnant, or when she was breastfeeding, and she'd been drinking less the past few months because of her medication, which she had said she was going to attempt to go off of next fall. But tonight had been the exception - a post-baby-down date.

She put her head back down. "You'll let me know if I ever get out of line, right, sugar?"

"You're always out of line, Tami." He smirked. "Nobody can contain you." He kissed her head. "But I kind of like you that way."

**[*]**

A week later, when Eric came home from an after-school Athletic Department meeting, he was counting down the weeks until he would be rid of that job. He entered the breakfast nook and found Gracie sitting in her high chair and banging her bottle against the plastic tray. Those little Gerber puffs Tami liked to give her as snack were scattered all over the floor, and Tami seemed not to notice. She had three different books open on the kitchen table and was hunched over one of them with a highlighter. Beside her she had what looked like a multiple-choice test.

"What are you doing, babe?" he asked as he freed Gracie from the confines of her chair and picked her up. Then he snatched one of the puffs from the open jar on the table and popped it in his mouth. He was curious about how they tasted. Not bad – a sort of light, sugar-free corn pop that practically dissolved in your mouth. Gracie put her hands against his mouth as if to reclaim the puff, and he nibbled on her fingers. She giggled and snorted. Eric adored his baby's laugh and smiled broadly at her.

"Studying," Tami answered. "I have to take a certification test to get my school administrator's license."

He turned his attention from Gracie. "You haven't even interviewed for the job yet."

"I need the certification _before_ I interview, sugar. Or I can't even apply. And the test is next week!"

"Oh. A'ight." He bounced Gracie up and down. "So, you want me to order pizza, then?"

"You know what?" she said, gazing at all the books scattered on the table. "Could you take Gracie and Julie _out_ to eat? And then maybe for ice cream? And then maybe drive around until Gracie falls asleep? Give me some peace and quiet so I can get a handle on all this?"

He nodded. "So…you're really serious about trying to get this principal job then?"

Her head jerked up. "Of course I am. Did you think I was joking?"

"No…no….of course not." He deflected his attention to Gracie Belle. "You wanna go out to eat with your daddy? Yes you do! Yeeees you do!"

"YETH!" Gracie gurgled.

Eric and Tami looked at each other and grinned. "That's _really_ early for a first word, isn't it?" Eric asked. "She's seriously advanced, isn't she?"

"Write that down in her baby book for me before you leave, sweetheart," Tami said before bowing down once again before her notes.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

In February, Tami aced her administrative license test. In March, she waltzed into her panel interview with a confident smile on her face. In late April, she was offered a contract for the following school year.

Eric was stunned when Tami slapped the contract down onto the kitchen counter and exclaimed, "I did it! Soon you'll have to start calling me Principal Taylor!"

He looked at the contract, looked at her, and then looked at the contract again. He scanned past the "Discharge for Cause" clause, which basically said she could be fired at the whim of the Board, in search of the salary. The figure was considerably higher than the salary she currently made as a counselor, but he was somewhat relieved to see it was still $10,000 lower than his own. He wouldn't admit it to her, and probably not even fully to himself, but he liked being the primary breadwinner.

"That's…that's great, babe," he said finally, with a slightly nervous laugh. He kept scanning the contract for expectations, wondering how many more hours she would be working next year. "I…uh….guess we'll have to figure out additional childcare. This…this isn't really a job that's _accommodating_ for a mother of a young child."

Tami put a hand on her hip. "Are you saying you don't want me to take it?"

"No…no….I'm saying it isn't going to be easy. I mean…we'll _both_ be working a _lot_ now."

"Then _one_ of us will probably have to _contribute_ a little more around the house than we usually do, don't you think?"

He put a hand on the countertop beside the contract. "And which one of us would that be?"

"I think you know."

He shook his head as he looked at the contract again. "Wow, Tami. I…wow."

"You didn't expect me to get the job, did you?" she asked, her voice tight and accusatory.

"I'm very proud of you." He leaned forward and kissed her unyielding lips. "Let's all go out to dinner to celebrate."

She smiled lightly. "Well, at least you're _trying_." As she turned from the countertop to head back to the bedroom to get ready, she said, "Now we can afford that addition, don't you think? Or even a new house, with his and hers closets."

Eric sighed as she disappeared down the hall.

At dinner, he toasted her with champagne and told her again how proud he was of her. But that night he lay awake for three hours, wondering how her new job was going to affect their home life and also how it was going to affect the Panthers. Coaches and principals didn't always see eye-to-eye.

[*]

In May, Eric's father came to Dillon for Julie's birthday. He brought three bottles of wine this time. They all sat on the back porch while Eric grilled up some steaks.

Eric's dad bounced Gracie on his lap facing him, holding her hands and chanting, "Ride little pony, ride to town. Be careful little pony, don't….falll…..down!" Then he'd open his legs wide so she'd slip down just a little, and he'd yank her back up to a chorus of giggles. He repeated this four times, and it never got old for the little girl.

"Is that the doorbell?" Tami asked. She put down her glass. "Nobody drink my wine!" When she returned through the sliding glass door, she announced, "Look who's here, Julie."

Matt waved hello. "Just wanted to drop off a birthday gift," he said, handing Julie what was quite obviously a wrapped CD.

"You're staying for dinner, Matt, of course," Tami said. "I won't accept no for an answer."

"Uh…okay." Matt smiled.

Tami announced that she needed to put Gracie down for bed. These days, they fed her early and put her to bed at 7:30 and then enjoyed a more leisurely dinner themselves. Soon, Eric would insist Gracie eat dinner with them so she could start learning some table manners, such as don't chuck your cheerios at the guests.

Matt and Julie followed Tami inside to set the table.

"Are they back together?" Eric's father asked after the door slid closed. "Matt and Julie?"

Eric was finishing up the grilling. "Uh…no. They're just friends now."

"I give it no more than six months," his father told him. "Before they start dating again."

"I don't know about that," said Eric, searing the steaks. "But Matt's a damn spot better than that other guy."

"What other guy?"

"Just some guy Julie showed an interest in." Eric shook his head. "Older too," he grumbled.

"Well, Matthew's older, isn't he?"

"By a _year_. I mean out-of-high-school older."

"Oh," his father said, his voice deepening with concern.

"Some Swede. He's gone now, though, I think. Or at least, Julie never sees him. He's the reason Matt and Julie broke up. Ostensibly."

"Ostensibly? Son, why didn't you do better on your SAT verbal back in high school?"

Eric looked at his father warily.

His father held up his hand. "I'm sorry. That sounded insulting. I didn't mean it to. And also…I recall now you'd just started dating Tami when you took that test." Mr. Taylor sighed. "One of the advantages of being over sixty is that you no longer think of sex 24/7. Well, at least not 24." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Katrina and I are going into business together."

"How's that?" Eric asked as he lowered the top to the grill.

"She's opening a bed and breakfast on the winery. I'm going to manage it. And I'm going to sell my house and move into the B&B once it's updated."

"So you'll be living in sin then?" Eric asked with a barely veiled smirk. He'd heard that phrase from his father enough times growing up.

"Katrina likes her independence. She'll continue to live in the main house."

"So you'll be like her servant boy?" Eric asked. "Are you going to make her breakfast?"

"I _already_ make her breakfast, son. Twice a week. Because that what a gentleman does….after."

Eric winced. "More detail than I needed." Still, he was somewhat relieved to consider that his own sex life might not cease to exist in twenty years. "Wait," he said. "Didn't you tell me, when I hired Tami to be the volleyball coach, that I shouldn't shit where I eat? And now you're going into _business_ with your girlfriend?"

"Yes, but I turned out to be wrong about that volleyball thing, didn't I?"

"What's that now?" Eric cupped a hand to his ear. "Did you just say you were _wrong_ about something?"

"Are those steaks ready?"

"No. Is the hospitality industry really your thing?"

"I managed a car dealerships for six years. That required hospitality. And I make an impressive omelet. You know."

Eric's mom had rarely cooked those two years she was depressed, and his father had taught himself a thing or two. "Do people come to El Paso? I mean, it's not exactly a tourist hot spot is it?"

"People who use the B&B will mostly be on their way somewhere else. Or they'll be from around the area and looking for a romantic getaway. We've done the research. We expect to succeed." Mr. Taylor took a step closer to Eric. "So…Tami tells me she's going to be principal of Dillon High next year. That's a big position."

"Yeah."

"That's a big position for a woman who's only been in the work force a sum total of five years, and none of those in administration."

"I know. But they offered it to her."

"Your mother was fond of that girl. She always told me Tami would go places." He smiled. "So your wife is going to be your boss next year?"

"Well…" Eric murmured, "not really….not…."

"You'll ultimately report to your _wife_."

Eric supposed maybe he deserved this for his earlier _servant boy_ comment. "Not really. I have to answer to the boosters. And Tami and I both work for the _system_. We both work under the _superintendent_, when you think about it."

"When _I_ think about it, you work for your wife."

Eric gritted his teeth.

His father laughed. "Well, that's going to be interesting," he said.

"Tami and I are used to working together. I'm sure we'll do just fine."

"How much does that principal job pay? I think there are only a couple dozen high school coaches in all of Texas who make more than the principal."

"Well I'm one of them," Eric insisted. He threw open the lid of the grill and picked up a serving plate. "Help me get these steaks inside."

**[*]**

Matt asked if Coach Taylor could please pass the salad, and the bowl came his way. He didn't feel awkward around Coach anymore, the way he had for a month or two after the man had shoved him in the shower and heard the confession of all his sorrows. Coach had talked to him bit by bit after that, to remind him that he had people in his corner, people who cared. Coach had told Matt he "believed" in him and that he was "a fine young man." By spring training, he felt at ease again.

"Thanks for the CD," Julie told Matt, and he nodded. He had picked Julie's birthday gift very carefully to make sure it said "_just friends." _ Her betrayal still stung him, despite his temporary rebound with Carlotta. He wasn't thinking about trying to get back together with Julie. But…he missed her. He missed just being around her, just talking to her, just laughing with her.

He'd come around at dinner time slightly on purpose. He knew when you showed up on the Taylors' doorstep anywhere near dinner time, you were always invited to stay. Julie was lucky to have parents like that - a family like that. A very small part of him resented her for it, because, Matt thought, if _he_ had parents like that, he wouldn't have needed to get drunk last season. He wouldn't have needed to go temporarily off the rails. Because if he had two people who just _stayed_, who never once left him or threatened to leave him, who he _never_ had to _fear_ would leave him, well…it would be different, was all. Of course, he had Grandma. But it was different when you were taking care of each other than when someone was taking care of _you_.

Julie's Grandpa said to him, "Art. You like art, right?"

"Uh…yeah." Matt set the salad bowl back down on the table and picked up his fork. "I'm surprised you remember that."

"Well, it's not the first interest you expect a quarterback to have."

"Sort of like Dungeons and Dragons?" Matt asked, glancing and Coach Taylor and suppressing a smile.

Coach Taylor lifted his water glass and narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Julie asked.

"Last Christmas, your grandpa told me your dad used to play D&D."

Julie's laugh started slow and low, but she eventually just ended up throwing back her head.

"That cannot be true," Mrs. Coach said.

Coach Taylor sighed.

"Seventh grade," Julie's grandpa said. "Every Sunday, for hours. With those Beaumont boys. Those kids were strange."

"Is that true?" Mrs. Coach asked her father-in-law. "My husband played Dungeons and Dragons?"

Mr. Taylor nodded.

"How could I not know this about you, Eric?" Mrs. Coach asked. "What other secrets have you kept from me?"

"Just where I keep the bodies hidden, but you said you didn't want the details."

Matt smiled and looked from Coach to Mrs. Coach. It was beautiful and sad all at once for him to witness this - two parents, who had been married for two decades, affectionately teasing each other at their own table, as though it were the most ordinary, expected thing in the world. He'd seen it from time to time at Landry's house too. Yet neither Landry nor Julie had any idea how lucky they were.

"I can't even _picture_ that, Eric." Mrs. Coach said. "You playing that. Were you any good?"

"Babe, _everyone_ was doing it back then. I just did what the neighbor kids were doing. And yes I was good at it. There's a lot of strategy involved. You've got to map out a game plan. You've got to build your team."

Julie laughed. "You should play with Landry."

"I don't think Landry does that anymore," Matt said.

"Were you the Dungeon Master, sweetheart?" Mrs. Coach asked. She had a twinkle in her eye when she asked it.

Coach Taylor licked his lips. "You _wish_."

"Ewww," Julie said. "Ewww. Stop. Right now." But while she squirmed, Matt laughed.


	16. Chapter 16

**EPILOGUE **

**[About two and a half years later]**

Eric answered the kitchen phone as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"Son," his father said, "sorry I didn't call earlier, but I was on vacation. Katrina wanted to see some Cirqu du Soleil thing in Las Vegas. Congratulations on winning State. Again. And with a team like the Lions. Impressive."

"Thanks." Eric leaned against the counter. He was never comfortable with his father's praise. He always yearned for it, and yet he was never comfortable with it.

"I heard you turned down a five-year contract with the Panthers."

Eric straightened up. "And who'd you hear that from?"

"Buddy Garrity."

Buddy. Of course. Buddy _would_ try to get Eric to change his mind by going to his father. Eric's Dad had kept in touch with Buddy over the years, because, as an Athletic Director for El Paso University, he'd wanted to know the main booster for one of the major high school teams. After Mr. Taylor retired, however, it was more like Buddy kept in touch with him. Eric wondered if it would be like that when he moved to Philadelphia, if Buddy would check in with him regularly for years whether he wanted the man to or not.

"Now," Eric's father continued, "the only reason I can think you would turn down a solid contract like that is if there was a better offer on the table. A college offer. _Did_ you get a college offer?"

"Oh, there's a college offer on the table all right," Eric said, stretching the phone cord so he could draw a beer out of the refrigerator. "But it's for Tami."

His father chuckled. "Tami's coaching football now is, she?"

Might as well rip the band-aid off, say it all at once, and brace himself for his father's reaction. "No, she was offered the position of Dean of Admissions at Braemore college in Philadelphia. She's going to accept it, and I'm going to follow her and find a high school coaching position in the area."

Eric popped the cap off his beer bottle. He'd done it with a bit of force, and it flew across the counter to the floor of the breakfast nook. He hadn't realized how tense he was until he saw it fly. Even though his father hadn't said anything yet, he was instinctively defensive. "And I'm sure I won't have any trouble finding such a job, seeing as I've won two state championships, including one that involved building a team up from the ashes. And I've been on a magazine cover." What the hell was he saying? He sounded like a conceited ass. Why did he still instinctively go on the defensive around his dad? Eric wondered if he would ever stop.

"Dean of Admissions?" his father said. "That's a big position."

"Yeah."

"That's a big position for a woman who's only - "

" - I know. But they offered it to her."

"This is a _college_, you say? We're talking a _dean_ at a _college_?"

"It's like an ivy but not an ivy."

"Damn, son." Mr. Taylor chuckled. "That girl."

"I know. So, is that all you called to do? Mock me for following my wife for her job?"

"Son, I called you to congratulate you for winning the State Championship."

That was true. He had.

"Listen," Eric's father said in a suddenly serious tone. "I need to tell you something."

"What's that?" _God, please don't let it be cancer,_ Eric thought. _Please._ His father was the last surviving grandparent. He wanted Gracie to know at least one. And…well…he didn't want to lose his father either.

"I got married while I was in Las Vegas. I thought you should know."

"Well, hell yeah I should know!" Eric slammed his beer bottle on the counter. "I didn't even know you'd proposed again. Or that she'd said yes."

"It was a bit impulsive of us. Well, of her. I'd been waiting for her to come around, you know."

"Well…congratulations, I guess. I thought I'd get to be your best man, though."

"You didn't want to do that."

"I sort of did, actually," Eric admitted.

"You've come around to the idea then?"

"I like Katrina well enough. And you've been together for a few years now. But, Jesus! An elopement? Really?"

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain, son. It's quite unnecessary."

"I thought you'd want to get married in the church."

"She can't. She's divorced, you know."

Just then Tami walked in. He covered the receiver with his hand. "Dad eloped."

"What?" Tami screamed. She grabbed the phone from him. "What's this you son is telling me, James? You getting married and you don't even tell us?"

"Well, Tami, what's this your husband is telling me? You getting this Dean of Admissions position and you don't even tell me you applied?"

"That's a job. It's not a marriage."

"Just out of curiosity…how did you manage to get that job?"

"Well I'm just fantastic, James. Don't you know that about me?"

Mr. Taylor laughed. "I do know that about you," he said. "I do. So you just walked into that interview and said, y'all, Tami Taylor is here. Ready to take this place over."

"Pretty much," she agreed with a warm laugh, and then, more earnestly, "Actually, I was pretty shocked. I thought _maybe_ they were going to offer me the _assistant_ dean position, and I thought even that was a long shot."

"Well…I'm surprised, Tami, but not _particularly_. You do have this uncanny tendency to walk through doors. Congratulations. But…Is Eric really a'ight with that move? Out of Texas?"

"He's agreed to it," Tami said.

"That's not what I asked."

"You Taylor boys don't handle change well, do you? But _you've_ made a lot of changes lately, James. I think your son will be just fine." She said goodbye and hung up the phone.

Turning to Eric, Tami asked, "You know what would make me happy?"

"Being Dean of Admissions of Braemore College?"

"That…and being taken to bed by my husband."

He smiled and grabbed her hand and started tugging her toward the bedroom. He came to a halt in the living room where Gracie was lying on her stomach and watching TV. "I almost forgot we had a daughter."

"We have two of them actually, though only one we have to get to bed before we can fool around."

He dropped her hand. "I'll take care of it. Just hold that thought."

[*]

Later, when they were enjoying a post-sex glass of wine in the living room, the phone rang. Eric answered it this time. When he came back, he put an arm around Tami.

"Guess who that was?"

"Don't make me," she said.

"My old best man. Scooter."

"I didn't know you were still in touch with him." The last time they'd seen Scooter and Angie face to face was six years ago, and Tami hadn't spoken to Angie in five years. It wasn't intentional. They'd just kind of drifted apart.

"I hadn't. But he called because I sent my resume into that school in Philadelphia. Franklin?"

"Yeah. What's that got to do with Scooter?"

"He's the Assistant Superintendent of the whole damn school system."

"Scooter? I thought he was an accountant."

Eric shrugged. "Well, the last he knew about _you_, you were a junior high school guidance counselor. Not a Dean of Admissions. Things change."

She shook her head and leaned back against him.

"Anyway, he says I shouldn't work for Franklin. He says I should work for some school named Pemberton. Some team named the Pioneers."

"Pioneers? What kind of name is that? There's nothing vicious about a Pioneer."

"I don't know. But apparently they need a better head coach."

"So you're going to apply?" Tami asked.

"Nope. Apparently I don't need to. I've already got the job. I just need to say yes. The school is just two miles off the Braemore campus."

She laughed. "Well, then…say yes!"

"A'ight. Thought I'd at least _talk_ to you about it first."

"This is quite the night for news, isn't it? You think Julie will call next and tell us she _already_ eloped with Matt?"

The phone rang.

"Don't answer that," Tami said. "Just take me back to bed and don't answer that."

"Yes, ma'am!"

**THE END**


End file.
